


Several Arrows Later Will Be Fine

by wildair



Series: Brooklyn Stars [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: A little bit of Comic Book Clint, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Bucky Barnes & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Darcy Lewis-centric, Eventual Smut, F/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Not Canon Compliant, Scientist Wrangler Darcy Lewis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildair/pseuds/wildair
Summary: Everyone knows that Darcy Lewis disappeared from the MCU after Thor: The Dark World. What this fic presupposes is...maybe she didn't. A romance novel featuring everyone's favorite personal assistant with a heart of gold. The Avengers and their associates appear, but this is mostly about Darcy & Clint.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and my first posting to AO3. Concrit is welcome about writing, formatting, etc.

_Oh, dangit, not again. _

Darcy watched in alarm as the screen flickered, grasping frantically for the power cord that had once again come detached from her laptop. She held her breath as the connection was reestablished, and hit CTRL+S a few times for good measure before she lost everything she was working on: namely, a grant proposal that would allow her friend and mentor -- _friendtor?_, she mused -- to continue her research on astrophysics and interdimensional travel. Jane was a brilliant scientist who relied on her capable assistant, one Darcy Lewis, to keep the admin tasks off her plate. Darcy was, frankly, very good at her job, but their shoestring budget apparently didn’t allow for a laptop that would actually hold a charge. Or a power cord, for that matter.

Darcy had been working for Jane -- _with_ Jane, the scientist would say -- for four years, since an internship during her senior year of college. She had been trying to avoid science classes, and, at her advisor’s suggestion, went to the department heads in the science building with a resume and a copy of the color-coded spreadsheets that kept her organized, one tab for each of the six semesters she’d been at Culver University. Her perfect GPA and rather aesthetically-pleasing planning skills had convinced the physics department chair that she’d be a useful assistant for Jane Foster, who had graduated five years earlier. 

By fall break, she had made herself indispensable to Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig -- who was technically her intern advisor. She’d whipped up a filing system that quickly freed up counter space, which immediately got covered in more sheafs of paper, which she integrated into the files, and the cycle went on. They’d rolled along that way for half a year before Thor landed in the desert, quietly vindicating the research Jane had been working on. Well, the landing wasn’t so quiet, nor the immediate aftermath, but as the world tried to pretend nothing had happened, Darcy did her best to keep things organized.

She’d spent that final winter break at Dr. Selvig’s personal lab in Oslo, which was pretty cool, pun entirely intended. He’d been on sabbatical that spring, and she’d wanted to stick around, finish her classes remotely, but Dr. Foster convinced her to go back to Virginia and be a student for sixteen more weeks. The day after graduation, the best Mother’s Day present Emma Lewis could have asked for, Darcy hopped on a plane back to Norway and settled into her new life as personal assistant to a couple mad scientists. 

Formalities dismissed now that she was an employee instead of an intern, Erik and Jane loaded her down with all the tasks they couldn’t or wouldn’t handle in the day-to-day running of a lab: coffee, yes, and typing up results and making sure expense reports were turned in on time -- Erik could charge a lot of the lab equipment to his research accounts at Culver, which made it easier for Jane to fine-tune the instruments she’d developed.

The work was satisfying, creating order out of chaos, but Darcy also enjoyed the more strategic aspects of her job, like begging people for money. Er, grant writing. Jane and Erik’s work wasn’t always widely accepted, but that just meant they sometimes had to get creative in who and how they asked for research funding. Darcy had become a whiz at writing grant proposals; even if she didn’t understand a lick of the science, her communications skills were top-notch, and she made a mental note to email her old academic advisor and thank him for expounding the virtues of a well-rounded liberal arts education. 

They hadn’t hit on any huge awards yet, but a few thousand bucks here and there kept operations going. Erik and Jane had both taken a leave of absence from teaching to chase a trail Jane had uncovered in her research as a consultant for SHIELD, but research was as much a part of academia as teaching, so between salaries and stipends and the occasional grant, they were making do. Every successful grant meant a report, which Jane dictated as Darcy dutifully typed up a translated, non-jargon-y version. She was thinking about getting another intern of her own at this point.

Erik returned to Culver University, an eight-hour drive away, and they adjusted to the new normal. As normal as could be, anyway, after the Battle of New York and the whole thing in London, and all the weird shit she pretended not to hear about, working alongside a top-secret alphabet agency.

Two and a half years after graduation, she sat in the rebuilt Stark Tower, of all places, trying to churn out another grant proposal that meant she might get paid, and in turn be able to pay rent on the small studio in Queens for another six months. And her stupid laptop wouldn’t stay on, and Jane was on another planet, literally, with her boyfriend who was a demigod, literally, and despite the fact that SHIELD would very likely be willing to get her a new computer so she could continue her work, it was all becoming A Bit Too Much. 

She hit save one more time, the old-fashioned way, clicking the little floppy disk icon in the top left corner, then uploaded the draft to her dropbox. Just in case the computer didn’t turn on tomorrow, she thought. 

The Tower was empty at this time of night, half the occupants out on missions and the other half out living their best lives. Darcy couldn’t afford internet at her apartment, and figured her work was more secure here anyway, so she’d held off as long as she could before it got too pathetic to be working so late on a Friday night instead of out enjoying her prime years.

She hung around a few more minutes, hoping someone would come through and say hello, remind her why she was here, but no dice. When 11 p.m. rolled around, she tucked her laptop into her messenger bag, heaved it over her shoulder, and made her way home.

Sleeping in wasn’t really an option when you worked for SHIELD, or for scientists whose algorithms spit out research at any hour of the day or night, so even on weekends Darcy was up and at ‘em early. Well, early-ish. She managed to loll about until 7:30 a.m., a full hour later than her usual wake-up time, before giving in to her alertness and climbing out of bed. 

She puttered around the apartment, stripping the sheets and taking her laundry down to the coin-op washing machines in the basement while the coffee brewed. A dozen quarters lighter, she paused to quickly sort through her mailbox in the building entryway before dropping the whole lot in the recycling bin sat under the shelf. She took a quick shower then sat down to a leisurely breakfast of grits, doctored up with bacon and cheese and topped with a runny-yolked egg. There wasn’t much she missed about Virginia, truth be told, but the diner by CU’s campus had done killer breakfasts and these grits were the closest thing she could get to that level of comfort food.

She was determined to turn her brain off for the weekend since Jane wouldn’t be back in New York until Tuesday, so after washing the dishes and watering her collection of houseplants -- and, okay, talking to them and maybe, possibly, singing to the droopy fern -- she retrieved her wet laundry and strung it around the apartment to dry. She wove through the room, ducking under clotheslines like a jewel thief, before bundling into a heavy coat and heading out into the cold morning air. 

Her little studio apartment was on the top floor of a converted old row house in College Point, and she’d been thrilled to find it. The previous tenant had moved out mid-year, and the landlady cut her a deal for paying upfront. She thanked her stars that she’d had enough in her savings to cover a six-month lease in cash, and she’d deposited her rent in fits and starts in the interim, paying ahead whenever she could. Working out of Stark Tower meant she could scrape together enough free food, free wi-fi, and the occasional use of Stark Industries’ pool of drivers, to keep her monthly expenses pretty low. It wasn’t glamorous, but living frugally gave her at least a modicum of independence; she’d only been tempted to beg her mom for money once, and had snapped out of it before actually picking up the phone. She knew her mother would happily give her a cushion, all she had to do was ask, but Darcy was determined to make a go of it using her wits and Tony Stark’s generously appointed office amenities.

She did splurge on clothes, though not as often as she used to, and she only shopped at thrift stores so she figured didn’t have to feel too guilty about her habits. She loved deep jewel tones, interesting accessories, mixing chunky boots with delicate jewelry, trying to find the balance between tough and tender. She’d definitely grown up tender, but when the world changed she thought maybe she needed to find a little more tough, too.

Her Saturday plans, then, were to make her way out to Flushing Meadows Park to enjoy the quiet chill of the winter weather, then meander back across Queens, hitting some thrift stores and trying to update her wardrobe with seasonally appropriate business attire. She’d probably be able to get away with jeans at work, honestly, but this was the first time her job had taken her into any sort of public office environment, and she didn’t want to embarrass Jane or Erik or herself by not dressing the part, even if the office was really only a few floors of Stark Tower. No matter that she’d been working there for nearly a year; there was always someone new to impress.

Even with the brisk air, she wasn’t alone at the park; a few other sturdy souls were braving the chill of the wind, trying to get resolutions off to a good start or just trying to get away from the house after the holiday season. She meandered for a bit, then decided that was fucking stupid and power-walked her way around Meadow Lake, lamenting her choice not to just work out at the gym in the Tower instead of going outside unnecessarily in the bitter cold of January. Lesson learned.

She bought a cup of coffee (another five quarters) from a cart near the bus stop, and spent the later half of the morning picking her way through some shops. By the time she got back to her apartment in mid-afternoon, she’d scored a decent little haul: four dresses, three sweaters, two pairs of what her grandmother would have called slacks, a gorgeous leather jacket in a deep purple color, and two blazers that were casual enough that she wouldn’t feel like a kid playing dress up. Her wallet was significantly lighter, but she’d come in under her budget; her primary Christmas gift from her mom had been money, as usual.

She modeled everything once more in front of the full-length mirror before cutting off the tags and throwing most of the lot into the hamper. She’d run another load of laundry in the morning, once everything hanging around the small space had dried. She wiped down the jacket carefully with an antibacterial cloth, dried it, and turned it inside out to treat the lining the same way. The only real problem she had with second-hand clothes was that she couldn’t afford to have much dry-cleaned, so she had to be considerate of the state of her purchases. The jacket looked well-loved but well-maintained, perfectly broken in, and definitely fit her tough-meets-tender vibe. So maybe it wasn’t work-appropriate -- she did have a life outside of the office. Or she could. Theoretically. She’d work on that. New year’s resolution, sorted. Darcy sighed, then flopped down on the small leather sofa and reached for her battered copy of Good Omens.

She awoke, a little disoriented, a few hours later to the buzzing of her phone -- another indulgence from her mom, who insisted that if her only daughter was going to be living in the city, she had to be accessible. She’d accepted the excuse gratefully, telling herself it made more sense to be on a family plan than for each of them to pay for a full line. At some point, she might even get around to chipping in forty bucks a month to pay her way.

“Hey, momma,” she greeted in a raspy sing-song. She tapped the speakerphone button and leaned back to stretch her arms over her head.

“Darcy, baby, are you sick? You don’t sound so good.” 

“Nah, just woke up from a nap,” she explained, clearing her throat. “What’s happening?”

“Sorry, kiddo, I know you’ve gotta get sleep while you can. Janie still away with her boyfriend?” As far as Emma Lewis knew, Jane’s relationship with Thor was nothing more than your typical romance.

“Yeah, back Tuesday so I’ll be alone in the lab Monday. Gonna finish up a grant application and hopefully get some back filing done.”

Her mom hummed softly, then Darcy heard her take a deep breath. “You got a few minutes to talk, Darce? I have some news.”

She sat up, alert, worried about the caution in her mom’s voice. “Momma? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, kiddo, I’m fine. This probably shouldn’t be a phone conversation but I have put it off too long and now I’m out of time. Your dad... he wasn’t good at being a dad, you know that, and so I decided to keep you all to myself.”

“You know I’m fine with that, right, Mom? You did awesome. Just look at me!” She tried to keep her tone light-hearted. 

“You’re pretty great, Darcy, and I guess your dad’s mom knew that too, she kept an eye out for you. And I just heard from a lawyer that she passed away a few years ago, and I guess she put some money away for you for when you turn 25.”

Darcy couldn’t help the tears welling up in her eyes, couldn’t keep them from her voice. “I, um. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.”

“It’s not a ton, you know, it’s not gonna make it so you don’t have to work, but it might make your life a little bit easier. Get some of your student loans paid off, you know.” Her mom’s voice faltered on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry I kept her from you. I was just trying to keep you safe and happy, but now it feels like maybe I did the wrong thing.”

“You didn’t, Mom, I was very safe and very happy. I am. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her mind was reeling even as she reassured her mother, and her practical side kicked in. “What happens now?”

“Well, on your birthday, you’ll get a check, basically. You’ll have to go to a lawyer to sign some documents, but they have an office in Manhattan, you don’t have to go up to Boston where her lawyer is.” 

“Three months, then. Just gotta scrape by for three months, then I’m a rich woman,” Darcy teased.

“Darce,” her mom heaved out a sigh. “I _am_ sorry about this. I never meant to punish you or your grandmother for your dad’s faults.”

“You and me against the world, right, Momma?” She eased into a change of subject, boasting about her new clothes and all the stuff she’d be able to afford once she got the money, and when they hung up the phone a little while later, she almost felt at peace with the whole situation.

Bobby Dennis had been a bad father; Darcy’s mom was right about that. He’d waffled over whether he’d support Emma at all, particularly when she refused to marry him just because she was pregnant, and his child support checks were sporadic at best. He sent the occasional birthday card to his daughter, but like as not she’d get it a few months before or after the actual event, and he missed all the little moments that make up a childhood: ear infections, learning to ride a bike, school presentations, camping trips. Her freshman year of high school, the guidance counselor called her out of second-period history for Emma to tell her that he’d been killed in a car accident. Darcy grieved, of course, but more for what she’d never had than for the man himself.

She’d tried to be a good kid, felt mostly successful in that endeavor, and got a partial scholarship to Culver University to study political science. She wanted to change the world, but from behind the scenes. She didn’t want to be a politician, but she sure as shit wanted to know how they did their jobs, because they were the ones who shaped so much of society and civilization. 

The internship with Jane and Erik had thrown her off her trajectory, but she still felt like she was changing the world. She stayed in close touch with her mom, even as she told white and gray and big fat red lies about her work because of national and global and interstellar security. She knew she was essential in allowing the scientists to work on interdimensional physics, and having the backing of SHIELD meant they were all a little more secure in their employment. The thing was, Jane’s science was rapidly outpacing Darcy’s contributions. She felt _this close_ to being security clearanced right out of a job, and it’s not like she could ask Jane to slow down or take a new angle or just please don’t leave her behind. 

So really, a windfall would come in handy. A breeze-fall would come in handy, a little puff of someone blowing out a candle, that much extra money would come in handy when she thought about securing her future. You know, whatever future remained, considering aliens and monsters and supervillains attacked the planet with alarming regularity nowadays. So she’d mourn the grandmother she never knew, but she’d also thank her lucky fuckin’ stars that someone had been looking out for her and she didn’t have to throw in the towel and change gears again just yet.

She hibernated into Monday, then got on the 7 into Midtown Manhattan, headphones cocooning her a little longer. By the time she swiped her access badge in the Stark Tower lobby, and again on the private elevator to the upper floors, and again outside Jane’s lab, she’d shaken the weekend off and was ready to dive back into work. She greeted the two techs in for the morning shift, settled down in front of her laptop, and made slower than usual work of a backlog of emails in Jane’s box. For all the magic and technology between Thor and Stark, no one had figured out how to let Jane answer an email from Asgard. Which, to be fair, who the hell wanted to answer emails when they were in Asgard with Thor? 

She took one for the team and pasted in canned responses to requests for interviews (“Dr. Foster is not granting interviews at this time.”), requests for data (“Please fill out the data request form at this link and we will get back to you as soon as possible if we can provide the information you have asked for.”), requests for a chat over drinks (“Dr. Foster is banging an actual deity, but sure, let’s get you on her social calendar.” Okay, that one was actually pretty similar to the first response: “Dr. Foster is not available for private engagements at this time.”). She flagged a couple things Jane might actually want to respond to, including a request to come speak at a CU alumni event in April, and an invitation to a gala dinner for women in STEM. The rest were personal, or sciencey enough that Darcy couldn’t speak on Jane’s behalf.

The post-lunch shift rolled in a few hours later, and as the lab was filling up rapidly with Jane’s science minions, she decided to pack up her laptop and work from the common room two floors up. She’d charged the computer all morning, but she grabbed the power cord just in case, and made her way back out to the elevator bank.

A couple of Avengers and adjacent agents who lived in the Tower were already in the kitchen when she stepped inside, and she wondered if she could back out without attracting any attention. She straddled a fine line between employee and friend -- Jane’s relationship with Thor meant Darcy had a little more leeway than other Tower and SHIELD staff, but she typically didn’t hang out with agents unless Jane was around.

Natasha and Steve had already spotted her, though, and Steve waved a friendly hello in her direction. She smiled, then breezed in as if she belonged there, dropping her bag on a chair at the small table in the corner. 

“Mind if I work in here for a bit?” She kept her tone friendly but confident. “The lab is pretty crowded and I’ve got to focus.”

“Go for it,” Steve said. “Should I leave sandwich stuff out for you?” He gestured at the cold cuts on the counter.

“I just ate in the caf, thanks though.”

“Clint’s on his way,” Nat said, “leave it out for him. See you, Lewis.”

She said a quiet goodbye, then settled down to work on tagging files in the cloud filing system. She was vaguely aware of traffic passing in and out of the kitchen over the next few hours, but she kept her head down, headphones clamped over her ears while Van Morrison serenaded her. When she finally reached a stopping point, she glanced up to see Agent Barton glaring at the coffee pot on the counter. His right arm was in a black sling, and he looked mad at the world.

“Uh, pretty sure JARVIS can see you making faces at his buddy there,” Darcy said lightly. 

Barton glanced over at her, as if he hadn’t noticed she was sitting there at all. _Perfect_, she thought. Clint Barton was an unqualified babe, and apparently she was totally invisible.

“Someone didn’t refill the coffee,” he griped, “and I’m not allowed to use my arm today.”

“Do you, uh, want some help? I’m pretty good at this kind of thing, just ask Jane.”

Barton studied her for a long moment, and she willed herself not to blush under his scrutiny. She was suddenly glad she’d put on one of her new knit blazers, the maroon one that looked really good with her skin. Even if she was turning a little pink in the cheeks.

“Would you mind?” he finally conceded. “_Apparently_ I’m supposed to ask for help. _Apparently _that’s how I avoid getting banged up enough to need a sling that will keep me out of commission for at least a week. Apparently.” 

Darcy made her way over to the coffee supplies, pulled a filter from the drawer and a big tub of specialty dark blend from the lower cabinet. She made quick work of setting the pot to brew, chattering all the while. “Rough day, then? Although, technically you didn’t ask for help, I offered, because I’m good like that and I can’t stand to see someone in need and also if I had to look at my computer for another second I was going to find the nearest window and chuck it right outta here.”

Barton looked at her, his expression somewhere between suspicion and amusement. She hoped it was genuine, and not at her expense. She knew she could be overwhelming, especially when she was nervous, and what do you know, injured, totally ripped, adorable archers made her nervous. Who’d have guessed. She needed to get out more.

They stood awkwardly for a few minutes, waiting for the coffee to brew, and finally she grabbed a mug from the drying rack and swapped the carafe out so the liquid poured right into the cup. “Faster,” she said lamely.

When the mug was full, she slid the carafe back into place to finish filling. As she passed the drink over to Barton, her mouth quirked up in an uncontrollable grin. The pattern was a bunch of rabbits -- cute enough at first glance, until you realized they were in various positions of bunny sex. “That mug,” she laughed, shaking her head slightly. “Amazing.”

Barton was still watching her as she popped over to the fridge. “Cream? Milk? Almond milk? Soy milk, jeez, how do we get this kind of selection in the lab? All I get are those little diner-style creamer cups that leave a weird floaty residue on top. Had to stop taking anything in my coffee at work.”

“Black is fine,” he finally said, and she felt her cheeks heat again as she realized she was babbling again.

“I don’t always talk this much,” she explained, still talking that much. “Jane’s gone and her minions are even less social than she is and I just haven’t actually interacted with a person since like Wednesday except at the store, and I’m gonna go now.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Barton said, smirking slightly, which was fair, she thought. It was a nice smirk. She grabbed her laptop and her bag and made her escape back to the bowels of the astrophysics lab.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane was back the next day, along with Thor, and they insisted Darcy join them for dinner upstairs. Jane had moved into the Tower as soon as Tony offered; although she and Thor didn’t technically live together, their suites were the only two on their floor, so for all intents and purposes they were cohabitating. Not bad for six months, Darcy had thought at the time. Of course, Thor spent half his time on another planet, and half his time on Earth fighting bad guys, so she guessed they had to take what they could get. 

Tony had offered her an apartment too, and in her weaker moments she contemplated accepting it. Rent-free living in Midtown would be pretty freaking amazing. But then she considered again that Jane’s work was taking a path Darcy couldn’t follow, and she didn’t want to lose her studio if she was going to lose her job soon. Somehow she didn’t imagine she’d get to keep the swanky apartment if Jane didn’t need her anymore.

She was glad that she’d met Thor before all the other Avengers, because it was hard to get worked up about anything once you’d met a demigod. And even though she’d met Agent Coulson and Agent Barton immediately thereafter, they didn’t leave a super great impression considering they’d taken all Jane’s work and all their equipment and Darcy’s ipod. She had eventually forgiven them, but Thor still got top billing in the superhero marquee in her mind. If she found Clint Barton more charming and more attractive and more skilled and more impressive than Thor or Steve Rogers or anyone else who crossed her path, it didn’t matter, because he was probably too old for her even if she was mature for her age, which she mostly was, except when she was being a freaking chatty cathy who didn’t know how to stop talking and keep her cool. 

Plus, Thor was a safe public “crush” because he was Jane’s and everyone knew it, so she could just play it off. It was fine. She’d only run into Agent Barton a few times in the Tower since she started working there, and he was always polite and never overly friendly, and that was _fine_.

So Jane and Thor dragged her upstairs after a long day in the lab, and if she’d known she’d be having dinner with superheroes and supersoldiers and Natasha Romanoff who looked as lithe and incredible in yoga pants and a soft sweater as she did in her SHIELD uniform, maybe she’d have worn something besides this purple floral dress that had been cute and quirky on the rack and now fell somewhere between mumsy and dowdy. It was fine. Normally she’d be brash to overcompensate for her self-consciousness, but tonight she just sat back and listened to everyone talk about their latest missions (all revealing details redacted in light of the one non-cleared guest at the table, thank you very much) and their new year’s resolutions and how much Thor’s mom had loved Jane. And that part really was fine, because Darcy knew how much Jane struggled to balance her science stuff with being a real person, and she was thrilled every time someone else recognized what a badass her friend was.

Everyone laughed when Tony offered to cut Barton’s meat since he only had one arm, and everyone laughed louder when Barton stuck a fork in his pork chop and tore a big bite off with his teeth, and she had a fleeting sense of nostalgia for a place she’d never been, which, she considered, may actually be longing, and that was new.

She loaded up the dishwasher with Steve, then slipped out quietly, counting out her eleven quarters of transit fare because her MetroCard was empty again. The little orange roll of coins in the front flap of her bag would be gone by tomorrow, and she set a reminder to throw in another roll when she got home. It was only a week until payday and she should have no problem making ends meet, as long as she stayed on top of the situation.

For reasons not entirely related to benched archers, truly, she found herself on the agents’ common floor every day that week. It started with a text from an unknown number telling her to help herself to the coffee in the kitchen. 

_Fresh stock of coffee supplies upstairs. All the milks._

Darcy pondered for a moment before grabbing her beat-up blue travel mug and going up the three floors to the kitchen. Barton was standing at the counter, and he casually and deliberately asked her to please help him make a fresh pot of coffee.

She refused to look at him as she got the pot started, but when she moved to put his mug under the stream, he reached out to stop her. “You go ahead,” he offered. 

She shrugged, filled her mug, then stuck the rabbit mug in its place. She swapped out the carafe again, letting the rest of the brew drip into it, and added a healthy pour of half and half to her drink.

“Can you even taste the coffee?” Barton’s voice was teasing.

“I like what I like, and if I get access to the good stuff I’m not turning it down,” she protested.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Were you trying to prove a point at dinner last night?”

She glanced up at him, confused. 

“You hardly said a word, thought you were trying to prove that you don’t actually talk all the time.”

“I only talk all the time when other people aren’t carrying their weight,” she said pointedly. “There was plenty of conversation last night.”

“Fair enough,” Barton said again. “I told Tony he should stock the labs better but he said I was being too soft on the minions and they were fine with mini creamers. And also I think he’s scared of Jane and she said she’d rain holy hell on him if he came near her lab without permission.”

She grinned, picturing that.

“So come make your coffee here anytime, Lewis,” he finished casually.

The next day it was Jane’s fault. She’d finally taken a look at the grant proposal Darcy had finished the week before, and she had a slew of science-y edits that she wanted added. The lab was too hectic for her to focus, even with her noise-cancelling headphones, and she signalled to Jane that she was going upstairs to work.

She settled in at the small kitchen table again, head down in front of the laptop with her notes and a highlighter and her phone and a big cup of water set neatly on the table. Again, foot traffic passed in and out of the room, and even though she’d tried not to be in the way, people passed by the table several times throughout the day. She sat back with a start when she realized how full her bladder was, and after racing down the hall to relieve herself, came back to see seven empty cups on the table behind her laptop. Apparently someone had been replacing them while she wasn’t paying attention.

Barton was sitting at the counter in front of a box of pizza, smirking again, and she scowled at him. “Thought you needed to stay hydrated, working so hard,” he drawled. “You’ve got the focus of a sniper, Lewis.”

“Thanks, I think.” Darcy yawned, stretched her arms up overhead, and blushed when her stomach growled.

“Saved you some pizza.”

“_Thanks_,” she said, earnestly this time. “How is it four already? I just got up here?” She snagged a slice of pepperoni and stood at the end of the counter next to where Barton was sitting.

“Are you serious, you can focus that hard on computer stuff? I mean, I know I’m good at infiltration and blending in, but that was impressive.”

“I sometimes have to set alarms to remind myself to stop working,” she said, tossing the crust back in the box. “What are you working on? Can I have the last slice?”

“Yeah, go for it,” he waved at the counter. “Kinda thought the smell would wake you up from your daze, honestly.”

She was already stuffing the pizza in her mouth, and she nodded back at the laptop and stack of papers sitting in front of Barton, raising her eyebrow questioningly.

“AARs,” he said forlornly. “Bane of my existence. I’m a slow typer even with both hands, and Hill said I don’t get back in the field until these are done, no matter what doc says about my wrist. Used to be I could file handwritten reports, but now everything’s gotta be typed up.”

“You’re in luck, Barton, I happen to be a very fast typist. May I?” At his nod, she washed and dried her hands and slid the stack of papers over in front of her. His messy handwriting covered the pages of the after-action reports, although some answers were no more than a sentence long.

“I’m not gonna get taken out back and shot for violating clearance, am I?” Darcy was only half-kidding, but Barton winced. “Sorry, poor choice of words?”

“A little, but also I didn’t think about that.”

“When I type up dictation for Jane or Erik, I’ll highlight the parts they need to go back and fill in -- if I type while you talk, can you leave out the sensitive parts, and hunt and peck your way through those? Names, places, that kinda thing?”

Barton considered, then nodded. “But you don’t have to help me with this, Lewis, not your circus.” His mouth quirked up as if remembering some private joke, but she just raised an eyebrow again.

“Ms. Lewis. Darcy. Would you please help me type up my mission reports so that I can get back on Hill’s good side and get back in the field.”

“I’d be happy to, Agent Barton.”

He paused a moment, then offered a small smile. “You should call me Clint.”

She nodded, a small, satisfied smile on her own face, and positioned her fingers over the keyboard. “Shoot. Ha.”

They made it through three fairly simple reports before his phone buzzed, and he sleekly scooped it up in his good hand, turning away from her as he pressed it to his ear. She half-listened to his clipped, one-word answers as she glanced back through the documents to highlight the things he’d need to replace. 

When he turned back to her, she turned the computer in his direction. “Fill in the yellow bits, and you’ll be all set.”

He glanced at the stack they still had to get through. “Any chance you want to help me with the rest of these next week?”

“I could do that,” Darcy answered slowly, not wanting to seem overeager. “Depending on what Jane needs from me, anyway.”

“After work Monday? I’ll order in some dinner?”

She nodded, and rolled her neck. “I gotta drop back in at the lab,” she said, glancing at the clock and figuring Jane would still be there since it was only 5:30. 

He was already thumbing at his phone screen, presumably dealing with the aftermath of the phone call, and he didn’t respond when she told him to have a good evening. She tried not to feel hurt, and Thor’s booming greeting when she made her way back to the lab went a long way to soothing her feelings. At least one superhero was always happy to see her.

On Friday, she slipped out of the lab before lunch to hit up the good coffee, and made sure she put another pot on to brew before she went back downstairs. There was no sign of Clint.

Darcy resolutely did not spend the weekend wishing for Monday, certainly didn’t drink black coffee in the lab just to avoid going up to the kitchen, and definitely played it a hundred percent cool when Clint texted her at 4:30 to ask when she got off work. She waited until 4:47 before answering, then immediately flipped her phone over and ignored the buzz of his reply for another 15 minutes. 

At 6:00, she took the elevator up three floors instead of down sixty. Clint was already sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, laptop open, but when she looked again at the stack of mission reports they had to work through, she shook her head.

“Nuh-uh,” she protested. “Let’s get comfortable for this.” 

He followed her through the open plan floor to the leather couches and armchairs surrounding a big-screen TV mounted over a fireplace. She dropped her bag on the floor next to one of the armchairs, sat down with her legs curled under her, and held her hand out for his laptop. 

He handed over the machine, then took a seat at the end of the couch nearest her. As he settled in, she realized he was no longer wearing the sling.

“Hey, all healed up,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, still a little tender but not enough to keep me off the next mission. Hill was very impressed that I turned in three reports on Friday, actually, and I’m pretty sure she put in a good word for me.”

She was inordinately pleased with the news, even when she considered that this meant he would probably be flinging himself into harm’s way again very shortly. At the very least, he probably wouldn’t be hanging around the Tower so often. He just seemed so happy to be cleared for duty, it was hard not to be happy for him.

“Alright, whatta we got?” She’d already pulled up a blank template, and once they dove into the report, they got into a steady rhythm. He was making up names to stand in for actual mission personnel, in deference to her lack of security clearance, and she giggled as she glanced back through a report about Frodo, Sam, and Pippin. 

These reports were longer, the missions more complex, than what they’d gone over the previous week, and they only made it through two AARs before her stomach growled embarrassingly. 

“You like Thai?” Clint asked. When she nodded, he said, “Hey J, can you get us some food? Wherever you want. Pad see ew, some crispy rolls, uhhh some larb, some pad Thai, and two Thai iced teas.”

“Very good, sir,” JARVIS responded. “Will that be all?”

“And some mango with sticky rice,” she piped up.

“Of course, Ms. Lewis,” JARVIS chimed. 

“Thanks, J.” He turned back to Darcy. “Once more into the breach?”

She nodded, pulling up another form. They broke halfway through the report to get some food, moving to the kitchen to eat at the table. She brought along the computer, but Clint gently closed the lid. “Break time. Han and Lando can wait.”

“About that,” she said around a mouthful of spring roll. “You’re a total fanboy, aren’t you? Like, some might go so far as to say a nerd.”

“I like the classics,” he defended himself with a frown. “And they’re perfect code names for this report, come on.”

She just shrugged. “Never seen ‘em.”

“Lewis! Darcy. They are an American institution. A global institution at this point, are you kidding?”

“I think I’m just in that millennial sweet spot, too young to enjoy them in real time, too old to care about the resurgence. And my mom’s more of a sappy sentimentalist than a sci-fi fan. All the tearjerkers, I’ve seen ‘em, but we didn’t really go for action movies.”

“And your dad?”

“Wasn’t really around,” she shrugged. “They were young...like high school young, I was an accident that turned out happy for my mom. She was 17 when I was born, and I guess my dad didn’t like the fact that she wouldn’t marry him even though, honestly, can you imagine, he was only 18 by that point and she was doing him a favor. Did us both a favor, really.”

She glanced up to gauge his reaction, and was disappointed to see the grimace on his face.

“They were kids, it’s fine, I turned out fine.”

He looked wary. “So you’re a millennial, born in...?”

“‘86,” she grinned ruefully. “But I’m very mature for my age.”

“Jesus, Darce. I’m literally almost old enough to be your dad,” he groaned out, dropping his face into his hands. 

She choked out a laugh, her cheeks warming at the thought that he might be bothered by this revelation. _Why_ he might be bothered. “Wait, so when were you born?”

“‘71.” He shook his head again. “So I saw all the original trilogy in theaters.”

“Yeah, okay, so under my specific circumstances you’re, uh, alarmingly close to my parents’ age. But that’s not-- this--,” she trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. Finally, she sighed and said, “At least being part of the tech generation means I’m computer-literate.”

He was still watching her cautiously, but loosened up a little when she turned the conversation back towards work. Over dinner, they chatted idly about her job with Jane, her experiences at Culver, the fact that her laptop was falling apart and wouldn’t hold a charge, the time Clint and Agent Coulson swiped her ipod and how long it took her to rebuild the library.

“Stark will get you a new laptop if you need one, you know that? Hell, I’m surprised SHIELD lets you use a personal computer instead of a secure machine.”

She waved her hand airily, sticky rice flying off the fork. “But what happens when I don’t work for Jane anymore, and I’m spoiled to new tech and I have to go back to the dark ages? Better to just stick with this hunk of junk.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at her. “Debating a career change?”

“Not willingly,” she admitted, “just trying to think about the future. There’s going to come a point when I’m not really helpful to Janie anymore, and I’m already nearly shut out of stuff because of my clearance levels, and I don’t know, this job fell into my lap. And I’m good at it, I mean, it’s good work and I like it, but I just don’t like being without a backup plan.”

He nodded, hesitating briefly before he spoke. “Look, I can talk to Hill about getting you a higher clearance. Especially if I can convince you to keep helping me with these reports. And we can probably find you some other stuff to do, assisting someone at SHIELD if things don’t work out with Dr. Foster.”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “You just like my coffee, don’t you?”

“Hey, kid, between your coffee and your typing skills, I’d be a fool to let you go.”

She smiled, but inwardly she was cringing. _Kid?_ Of course he was only interested in her help as an assistant. His reaction to finding out how young she was just meant he was feeling old. Well, two could play that game.

“Alright, grandpa, let’s get these reports finished. Gotta make myself useful somehow.”

She moved to put the leftovers in the fridge, and she could feel him watching her as he cleaned up the dishes. She grabbed the laptop and went back to the living room, sitting cross-legged in the armchair to resume her duties. 

Three hours later, they’d finished the last of the reports. Clint based the final report on Harry Potter characters, and Darcy realized it was an olive branch as she put her coat on and slung her bag over her chest. There was a deathly hallows pin on the strap of her bag, and a Hufflepuff crest patch sewn onto the flap.

She groaned as she thought about heading out into the cold night air. “Times like this I wish I’d taken Tony up on his offer of an apartment,” she murmured, wrapping a dark green scarf around her neck. 

“Where you headed?” Clint asked.

“Queens. Not the best commute, even worse at this time of night.”

“Stark’s got some extra rooms, you know. If you wanted to stay. Or, I could drive you home?”

She considered the offer, and after a moment’s deliberation, nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great, actually. I sleep better in my own space.”

“Least I can do after you stayed late to help me out,” he said. “Let me just grab my coat. Uh, are you okay on my bike? I can get a car, but the bike’ll be faster.”

“Anything’s better than the subway at this point,” she answered with a grin.

They rode the elevator down to the underground garage, and he grabbed an extra helmet for her before straddling his motorcycle, pausing to go over some safety basics first. Darcy looked at it a little warily, then pulled the helmet over her head. He leaned over to fasten the strap, and her breath caught in her throat. She climbed onto the seat behind him, feet propped up on the floorboards, hands hovering over his hips.

“I should warn you,” she said after a moment, “I’m gonna hang on to you and not to this metal bar.”

His only response was to reach back and pull her hands around his waist. He pulled his own helmet on, gave her hands a quick squeeze, and started driving.

Despite the chill, she felt warm on the ride home, pressed closely against Clint’s back, her thighs bracketing his hips. She watched the lights of the city fly by through the flap on her helmet, tightened her grip on his waist whenever he took a turn a little quickly, shivered when he’d grab her forearm at every red light. The ride took half as long as her usual commute, and she was sorry when it was over. He climbed off the bike, then helped her stand on shaky legs in front of her building.

“First time on a motorcycle?” His half-smile was charming and a little smug, and she knew he knew it.

“Hopefully not the last,” she quipped, a little breathless.

He nodded solemnly, eyes flicking back and forth between her own, before saying, “Good night, Darcy.”

“Thanks for the ride, Clint.”


	3. Chapter 3

She deliberately avoided the common floor for the next two days, not wanting to overstay her welcome, and she was surprised when Clint texted her on Thursday morning.

_Team dinner tonight at 7, make sure Jane is there?_

She shot off a quick response: **_I’ll put it on her calendar._**

_thx_

She stuck around until 6:30 to make sure Jane left the lab in time to change clothes and freshen up, then followed her friend into her apartment to chat for a few minutes. Jane had just about solved some algorithm that would allow for the transition of, nope, it was gone, Darcy couldn’t keep up. 

“Janie, how’s stuff outside of work going?” She didn’t mean to interrupt, but she needed to remind Jane that she was more than an assistant, in case Jane got any ideas about hiring someone who could actually understand what the hell she was talking about.

“Good!” Jane replied, sounding surprised at the change in subject. “Good. Thor is great, and I’m going back to Culver in a couple months for that alumni event so I think I’ll stay there for a few days to work with Erik, and it’s nice not having a commute, you know, even if I’m not spending much time enjoying the city right now. How are you, Darce, you still like New York?”

“It’s good, you know, I think I’m going to join a book club or Tinder or something, try to broaden my social circle.”

Jane hummed distractedly, brushing her hair and twisting it up. “Sounds good, Darce. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Janie, see you tomorrow,” Darcy said. She and Jane shared the elevator for a few floors, until Jane got out on the common floor, and Darcy rode down in silent contemplation.

At home, she fixed some eggs and toast to eat while she rewatched Veronica Mars. She was working her way through the series again on DVD, courtesy of the New York Public Library system, and Logan had just told Veronica their story was going to be epic, and “I Hear the Bells” was the perfect song choice for that scene, man, when someone knocked on the door. She startled, automatically reaching for the baseball bat tucked into the umbrella stand as she made her way to the door.

“Darcy, it’s Clint,” a voice called, and her heart rate really shouldn’t have sped up at that, but what can you do.

She flipped the three locks and pulled the chain, then swung the door open, bat in hand. He looked at her a bit incredulously, and she couldn’t help the blush rising up her cheeks.

“Where were you tonight?” His voice was brusque.

“Here?”

“No, I mean why didn’t you come to dinner?”

“I wasn’t invited?”

“Yes you were, I texted you.”

“You told me to make sure Jane was there. You know, because I’m her assistant.”

He started to huff out a protest, then pulled out his phone. 

“Ahh, yeah, okay, I can see how you might not have known you were invited.”

She just looked at him expectantly.

“My text wasn’t quite as clear as I’d hoped,” he said, shrugging apologetically.

“I... do you want to come in? How’d you even know which one was my apartment?”

Clint stepped through the door when Darcy moved back, still holding the baseball bat.

“I waited for your light to come on when I dropped you off the other night,” he explained. “You really think you’re gonna take somebody out with that?”

She looked down at the improvised weapon, then dropped it back in the stand with a laugh. “Makes me feel a little safer, I guess.”

“We should get you some proper training,” he mused, “hand-to-hand, guns, whatever. I’ll schedule you some time on the range.”

Darcy snorted, and he looked up, chagrined. “I mean, if you’re interested. Maybe just a basic self-defense class?”

“I could do that,” she agreed cheerfully, walking over to pause the DVD. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, apparently feeling foolish about dropping in unexpectedly. “I should get out of your hair,” he muttered.

“You could stay for a little bit, if you wanted,” she replied quietly. “Since you came all this way to yell at me unnecessarily.”

He glanced back up at her, deliberating, and let out a slow breath. “Yeah, okay. What are you watching?”

“Veronica Mars? Have you seen it? I’m most of the way through this episode so we can watch something else if you want. I mean, I don’t have a ton of DVDs because there’s no room and the library has everything, but there are a few on the shelf over there.”

Clint took three short steps over, glancing around the apartment as if cataloging the exits and weak points. Darcy glanced around herself, cataloging the stacks of clean laundry she hadn’t gotten around to putting away, the clothesline across the kitchen, the egg pan still on the range, the recycling bin full of cans of store brand flavored sparkling water. At least she’d made the bed that morning and didn’t have any underwear hanging up to dry. She did dart into the bathroom while he looked at her meager movie collection, replacing the hand towel and wiping down the sink and mirror with the dirty one before throwing it in the laundry bin. 

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t particularly interested in the Jane-Austen-and-her-oeuvre selection, and he shrugged when she stepped back into the living area. “What you’re watching is fine.”

“Can I get you a drink? I have tap water or sparkling water. Or I can make tea or coffee?”

“Uh, sparkling water?”

“Lemon-lime or wild cherry?”

“Cherry.”

“Do you want a glass?”

“Can’s fine.”

She grabbed two cans of cherry from the fridge, then gestured for him to sit down on the loveseat, suddenly wildly grateful her apartment wasn’t big enough for more than one piece of furniture in front of the tv. 

“Bet this was a pain to get up the stairs,” he commented, slouching down into the leather cushions. 

She curled up next to him, not touching but close enough to feel his warmth. 

“Shoes on the ottoman okay?”

“Whatever’s comfortable,” she replied.

He toed off his boots, not looking at her, and propped his feet up. “Alright, hit me. What’s this show about?”

She explained the premise briefly, rewinding back a couple scenes to where she’d been interrupted. “This is one of my favorite scenes in the show, actually, so good timing.”

They chatted quietly throughout the rest of the episode, and the next two episodes that finished off season two, Darcy inching closer with each murmured explanation of who was who and why they mattered. By the time the final credits rolled, she was pressed up against Clint’s side, his hand resting lightly on her thigh where she curled into him. She flicked off the tv and they sat in the relative darkness for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet thrill of one another’s company.

Finally, he started to speak. “Hey--,”

“Shhhh,” she interrupted. “If you’re about to say something noble, don’t, not yet. Just let me have this for a few more minutes first.”

His hand tightened on her leg, his thumb brushing gently against her leggings, and he sighed. “I was gonna say I’m sorry for not being clear that I wanted you to come to dinner tonight.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “This is good, though. Better than dinner, I think.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was also going to say that the weather is supposed to be unseasonably warm on Saturday, and I’m planning to take my bike out, and I wondered if you’d want to come along.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You said you wanted to ride again, and I’m hoping that meant with me.”

“It definitely did. I’d love to, thanks for thinking of me.”

_Thanks for thinking of me, Darcy? Get a grip_, she berated herself, but he just turned his head to look at her and said, “All I seem to do lately,” in a low, gravelly voice, and she thought she might spontaneously combust.

Instead, she said, “I’d really like to kiss you now,” and he smirked just a little before leaning in to press his mouth against hers. She tightened her grip on his bicep, giggling to herself at the absurdity of his muscles. He used the hand on her thigh to pull her body just a little closer, and when her mouth dropped open on a gasp he darted his tongue in ever so slightly before pulling away.

Darcy kept her eyes closed for just a second, savoring the moment, then brought a hand up to Clint’s face. “You taste like cherries,” she said dumbly, and he leaned in for another lazy, chaste kiss.

“I should probably go,” he murmured. “I don’t wanna go, but I need to.”

She nodded, dropping her hand and pulling back. “That’s probably a good idea,” she agreed.

He gave her leg one more gentle squeeze before she sat back with a pleased smile.

They worked out details for Saturday as he pulled his boots back on, and she walked him to the door--so chivalrous, those half-dozen steps--and she couldn’t stop herself from tilting her face up for one more kiss before he left.

“I won’t be around the Tower tomorrow,” he said. “But I’ll see you here Saturday morning.”

“I’ll make the coffee,” she agreed. “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

Darcy watched from the window until he climbed on his bike, throwing a wave at her before he peeled off, and she sank back onto the couch, squealing into a pillow and kicking her feet wildly in the air. She reveled in the bliss of a good first kiss, and by the time she got in the shower before bed she was worked up enough that she came almost as soon as she touched herself.

Friday passed in a haze of lust and anticipation, and even Jane noticed that she was off in space. She got her work done, sure, but her boss had to ask her three times about whether Erik had responded with the data she was waiting for. She finally gave up and sent Darcy home at 2:30.

The unseasonably warm temperatures had already hit, and Darcy decided to use her newfound freedom to take a stroll through Central Park. The footpaths were busy, unsurprisingly, and she eschewed her headphones in favor of listening to the chatter of everyone around her. By the time she boarded the subway an hour later, she couldn’t stop smiling, to the point that people were avoiding her. A laugh rose up in her throat; who knew the best way to find peace in New York City was to smile like a loon?

That night she took special care in the shower, shaving, exfoliating, using a hair mask. Even if Clint didn’t see any bare skin, she’d feel sexier just knowing she was ready for anything. And, really, she didn’t plan for him to see any bare skin. It was too soon, she didn’t want to rush anything, and the anticipation would only make things more satisfying if and when they actually sealed the deal. Still, she got herself off again before bed, imagining his hands on her skin, his voice rough in her ears.

Clint knocked on the door at 7:57 a.m., helmets in hand. Darcy had been ready for nearly twenty minutes already, even after changing her outfit half a dozen times. When she saw his simple jeans, green henley, and black leather jacket, she knew she’d made the right call.

She’d dressed in black jeans, scuffed Docs, and a ribbed cream-colored sweater, and her new purple jacket was slung over the back of a chair. Her hair was in a braid over her right shoulder, low and loose enough to fit under the helmet but restrained to keep it from tangling too much on the ride.

She handed him a cup of coffee, but he pulled her into a kiss before he took a sip. “Been thinking about that since Thursday,” he said, blue eyes crinkling as he smiled at her.

She tugged him over to the counter, where she had two blueberry muffins waiting for them, and they ate a quick breakfast, sneaking glances and smiles at one another. She put the empty mugs in the sink, running a little water in each, then grabbed her jacket. She’d already tucked her debit card and ID in the inside pocket, along with a twenty just in case, and she slid her phone in too before zipping the coat up halfway.

His expression was unreadable, and he must have seen the worry on her face because he broke into a wry smile. “Purple’s my favorite,” he explained. “Looks good on you.”

She blushed and ducked her head, and he brushed a quick kiss across her cheek. “That blush looks good on you too, darlin’.”

He stood at the top of the stairs as she locked up, and when they’d clattered down the steps he offered to keep her keys in the seat, saying it was a little safer than a pocket. She handed them over, and strapped on her helmet as he got settled on the bike. When she climbed on behind him, he laced their fingers together for a moment before starting up the engine, and she felt a thrill that had nothing to do with the machine between her legs.

They rode north along the Hudson River for a few hours, pulling over a couple times so she could stretch her legs and they could enjoy the scenery. The roads were mostly empty but they saw a few other people on motorcycles, either solo or in small groups of two or three. After a while they got off the bike for a good half-hour, strolling around hand-in-hand in a little town, just enjoying each other’s company, stealing kisses. It was a little early for lunch, but they sat down at a diner, drinking more coffee and splitting a piece of coffee cake. Clint explained that he didn’t want her to get sore, but she would have accepted any excuse to be off the bike if it meant she got to see his handsome face. She was delighted when she said as much and he blushed, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck in a gesture she now recognized as bashfulness. 

She took care of the check while he was in the bathroom, and when she came outside after making her own pit stop, he was frowning slightly. “I meant for this to be a date, my treat. I don’t want you spending your money on me.”

“Mmm, but I paid for the cheap meal so you can pay for dinner,” she teased. “I’m a modern woman, after all.”

His expression softened, but she sensed he wasn’t entirely placated. Still, he gave her a kiss before climbing back on the bike, and they rode a little further north before cutting off onto a road that would lead them back to the city. 

They stopped a couple more times, and Clint was uncharacteristically quiet. He was straddling a low stone wall along the banks of the river, looking out at the water as she snapped photos with her phone. She turned to him, capturing his profile in a brooding moment, before walking up to him. 

“I don’t want you to think I need a caretaker, or a sugar daddy, or whatever. I was just trying to show that I can contribute, but I didn’t mean to mess up any of your plans for today.”

He swung his leg back over the wall to face her. He reached for her and she allowed him to pull her near, tugging her hips so that she stood between his spread thighs, looking down slightly at his face.

“I know you don’t need someone to take care of you, but I want to anyway.” His mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to forget that I’m a lot older than you, but other times I have to remind myself how young you are. Mostly I worry that I’m gonna take advantage of you somehow.”

His hands were still resting gently on her hips, and she put her own hands on his biceps, running her fingers lightly up and down his arms. “I’m not really worried about that, honestly. I think...if I thought you only wanted me because I’m young and impressionable, you’d have made a move two years ago when we met, or at some point in the last year I’ve been working in the Tower. But you didn’t give me a second glance until a couple weeks ago, and that’s reassuring somehow?”

Clint toyed with the end of her braid, and she took a small step closer, her hands moving up to rest on his shoulders. “So you’re not young and impressionable, then? Ugh, never mind,” he teased. 

“Hey,” she protested with a pout. She made a move as if to pull away, but he grabbed the open folds of her jacket and tugged gently on it.

“This coat, Darce, honestly.” He shook his head. “And that purple dress you wore to dinner last week, you looked so pretty, so sweet.”

She blushed, hearing the heat in his words. Something about being called sweet was really doing it for her, even as she remembered how unfashionable she’d felt in the floral dress. “Huh, so you do go for the young and innocent look. I’m on to you.”

“It’s really not like that,” he said, suddenly serious. “The work I do, though, the things I see...the things I do sometimes, it’s just nice to see something pretty, someone I want to protect. It’s not because you’re young, I swear. It’s because you care about people, because you helped me make coffee and type up my reports and always have a backup plan. You’re soft, in all the best possible ways, Darce.”

He’d wrapped his arms around her waist by this point, and he was speaking almost into her neck as she held him close. She stroked the back of his neck as she listened, unsure how to respond. Eventually, she just pressed a kiss to his temple; it was a surprisingly intimate moment, and he tightened his embrace for a moment before loosening his hold on her. She took a tiny step back so she could kiss him properly, and they spent several minutes making out before he groaned softly and broke away. They were both a little breathless, and she was glad he’d stopped things because a couple other riders pulled up into the little outcropping to take in the scenery and stretch their legs.

Clint waved and stood up as one of the men came over to chat about the weather, Clint’s bike, and the speed trap they’d passed through a few miles earlier. He had casually positioned himself between Darcy and the other man; he didn’t seem threatening at all, Clint just seemed to automatically orient himself in a way that was both protective and possessive. She was surprised to realize she didn’t mind either trait, and when the brief conversation was finished, she allowed Clint to guide her back over to the motorcycle with a firm but gentle hand on her waist. He nipped at her mouth for one more kiss before handing over her helmet, and as she settled on the seat behind him, she risked running her hand over his thigh before locking her arms around his waist. He tilted his head back to gently knock their helmets together, which she took as a good sign, and they set off again. 

He kept the speed moderate until they passed the police cars the other rider had warned them about, then opened up and raced down the highway, towards home. She revelled in the feel of the bike under her, his solid frame pressed against her, the wind whipping the tail of her braid around. She felt wild and safe all at once, like he was giving her that tough tenderness she’d been craving, and by the time they pulled up in front of her building a couple hours later, she was breathless again.

They climbed off the bike and he pulled her keys out from the underseat storage. When he turned to hand them to her, he hesitated.

“You okay, Darce? You look a little...” he trailed off, not wanting to offend.

She hoped he wouldn’t figure out it was lust coursing through her veins, turning her cheeks pink, her eyes a little hazy.

“I’m fine,” she managed, “just a little shaky.”

He hung his head apologetically, saying he should have pulled over for one more pit stop, but he was trying to get home while it was still light. “Do, uh, do you wanna get an early dinner or are you sick of me by now?” he continued, walking her up to the front door.

Darcy deliberated for a second, standing close to him. “I’d better not,” she finally said, then rushed on as she saw something flicker across his features. “Not because I don’t want to! I really, _really_ do, I had a great time today and I’m not at all sick of you. I just, um, don’t trust myself not to try to jump your bones tonight, and I’m not quite ready for that. I mean kind of, yes, super ready, totally into it, but I don’t want to ruin this?” She hated how her voice lilted up at the end, as if she was unsure of her own emotions. She knew what she felt, honestly, she just wasn’t quite sure about what Clint felt. 

“I mean, I don’t want to read too much into anything, you know, but, um, I like you and I think maybe you like me too, and I think maybe if I don’t take it slow I’m gonna do something stupid that might mess this up.”

He reached a hand toward her face, then seemed to think better of it and pulled back. “I like you, too, Darce. And there’s very little you could do to mess this up, for the record, but I’m not going anywhere. I mean, I’m going home now because I respect you and your decisions, and I mean theoretically I’m going to be going on ops again soon, so like, yeah, physically I might be other places,” he shook his head, rolling his eyes at himself, “but uh, I’m-- I wanna see where this is going, you and me, and I don’t mind waiting, and I appreciate you telling me how you feel.”

He drew in an uncertain breath, and she wondered for a minute that this brave, charming man might be even a little off-balance because of her. 

“Can you tell me what the boundaries are for you right now? Can I kiss you? Can I call you, or text, or whatever?”

Her heart swelled a little at the care he was showing, the fact that he was clearly taking this seriously. “Yes to kisses, yes to calls, yes to texts. But maybe you should initiate the calls and texts when you’re away? So I don’t screw anything up for you?”

Clint relaxed against the banister, slouching so they were more at eye level and pulling her gently towards him. “Makes sense. And maybe you should initiate anything physical beyond what we’ve already done. I mean obviously when we’re out in public we’re not going to do anything crazy anyway, but I want to leave that in your hands when we’re together.”

She laced her fingers with his, and dropped her mouth down to kiss him. “Thanks for not making me feel stupid about this,” she mumbled against his lips. “I’m not trying to play hard to get or anything, I just want to...be sure.”

“Not stupid, sweetheart.”

Darcy pulled back, forcing herself to meet his gaze, and whatever she saw there reassured her. At least until he spoke again. “So I got an assignment, I leave tomorrow, probably only for a week or so but I won’t be around for a bit. But I’ll call you when I can, and text you if I can’t actually talk, if that’s okay? Probably in the afternoons or evenings?”

She frowned slightly at his words. “You should have led with that! We should do dinner then!”

Clint shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want to rush this just because I have to head out of town for a little while. I’ll come back and we’ll pick up wherever you want.”

She nodded, gave him another kiss, long and lingering this time, and pulled herself out of his grasp.

“Be safe.”

“Always.”


	4. Chapter 4

True to his word, Clint texted her the next afternoon: 

_Having a good Sunday?_

** _Not bad. When do you ship out?_ **

_That’s classified._

** _I hope you at least get to go someplace with good food and good weather._ **

_Also classified, and it’s not a vacation. _

_But there will be good food._

_ **Good. ** _

** _Is it weird to say I miss you already?_ **

_I miss you, too._

_Gotta run but I’ll be thinking about you._

Darcy responded with a kissy-face emoji, then rolled over on the couch to curl up under a blanket. She knew Clint was good at his job, he wouldn’t be an Avenger or a SHIELD agent otherwise, but she had a feeling the low frisson of fear would run through her body until he got back to New York. 

Work was a welcome distraction, and she threw herself into her duties with gusto. Early on, she’d learned what files needed to be stored electronically in full form, what could be condensed into summaries for the digital repository (cross-referenced to the appropriate filing cabinet, of course), and that pretty much nothing should be thrown away, at least not without being scanned and uploaded. Every whiteboard was photographed before the calculations were erased, and every image was tagged extensively for said cross-referencing.

She updated and backed up the cloud storage, followed up on a couple funding queries, and put together a job description for the intern she hoped Jane would let her hire. She wished she could get another Culver student, but practically speaking, it would probably have to be someone local. Although, she reasoned, if it was a summer internship, there was no reason to only pull from New York schools. She could probably even convince Tony to cover the cost of an apartment, if she asked really nicely and undid another two buttons on her blouse.

She and Clint texted a few more times over the next few days, nothing serious, just him checking in when he had a free minute. On Thursday night, he called her at nearly midnight; she answered groggily, and he immediately apologized for waking her

“No, no,” she protested, “I’m so glad to hear from you. How’s things?”

“Long day,” he sighed. “I just, uh, just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Need me to talk for a little while? You know I’m good at that.”

“Would you mind?” 

She could hear him moving around on the other end of the line, getting settled, and she sat up against the headboard, propping her pillows up behind her. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to bake a pie in the dorm kitchen? Nearly burnt the place down, we had to evacuate. I was trying to impress this guy in my public policy class, but I think I just made a bunch of enemies. The girls in my building were shooting evil looks at me the rest of the semester.”

Darcy kept her voice low and her stories light, trying to draw him out of his head as much as possible from however many miles away she was. She talked for nearly an hour, Clint chiming in with the occasional question or wordless response to show he was still listening. Finally, after she wrapped up a story about getting caught sneaking into the movies as a teenager, he laughed aloud.

“Shoulda known you were a troublemaker,” he said, sighing. “I better let you get some sleep, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to keep you up this late.”

“Totally worth it,” she assured him. She climbed out of bed to get a glass of water, her throat dry after talking for so long.

“Uh-oh, do I hear you in the kitchen?” His voice was teasing. “Should I call the fire department?”

“Oh, someone’s funny!”

“Hey, what kind of pie were you trying to make anyway? For the guy in class?”

“Cherry.”

“My favorite. Did he ever ask you out?”

“Nope.”

“His loss, huh?”

“Yeah, but I got one of the firemen’s numbers. Didn’t work out, I burned the cookies I tried to bake him.”

“Darce, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please don’t ever cook for me.”

“Deal,” she said. “Night, Clint.”

“Night, darlin’.”

There was radio silence for two days, and the pit in her stomach, previously soothed by her brief conversations, grew heavy again. 

On Monday afternoon, she couldn’t take it anymore, and she planted herself in the common room lounge, hoping this would be the day Clint returned from his mission. She took along her computer, and actually managed to get some work done formatting a paper that Jane was trying to get published. When Jane came up a couple hours later, bearing the news that the team was coming back in, Darcy forced herself to keep cool, her laptop open in front of her. Nat came in first with a tall black man in tow, Steve trailing behind a few minutes later. No one seemed surprised to see her in the armchair, headphones wrapped around her neck instead of over her ears, as the agents filtered in and out of the space. Tony was the next to arrive, and he said Thor had gone straight to their floor looking for Jane, but that everyone was meeting in half an hour for dinner. 

“You too, Lewis,” Tony said, pointing at her, and she smiled in acknowledgement. 

Nat introduced her companion as Sam, and he waved at Darcy from across the room. Clint still hadn’t arrived by the time everyone finished eating the Italian takeout JARVIS had ordered, and she could have kissed Bruce when he asked where Barton was. Bruce hadn’t gone on this run, but hadn’t really ventured up from the lab since the team had left. 

“Getting Morse settled,” Steve answered quietly, combining the leftovers into a few containers. He looked exhausted, and Darcy nudged him gently out of the way to take over. He smiled at her when she shooed him away with a flutter of her fingers. 

“Sex with the ex,” Tony said, “best way to recover from a mission. Except sex with the current, obviously, Pepper, in case you’re listening in.”

So much for kissing Bruce. Now she just wanted to punch someone. Unfortunately, she was in a room full of super-people, and the only other plain old human was her best friend and boss, and maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to punch the girlfriend of a god. Also, you know, her best friend and boss. Ugh.

She heard footsteps behind her, but refused to turn around when Tony cried out, “Speak of the devil! What have you crazy kids been up to?”

When Clint and his friend came around in front of her, Darcy groaned inwardly. The woman was a knockout, tall and leggy, long blond hair, great smile. 

“I’m Bobbi,” the ex said, holding out a hand. 

“Darcy,” she responded. It took all her willpower to shake Bobbi’s hand normally instead of trying to crush her fingers, and that was mostly because she knew Bobbi would easily overpower her in that kind of subtle warfare. Plus, they hadn’t said anything about not seeing other people. It’s just that a heads-up would have been nice.

“Bobbi works out of the DC office, and helped us out on this op,” Clint explained. “And Darcy works with Jane.”

“Thor’s girlfriend?” Bobbi confirmed.

“Yeah, brilliant astrophysicist, works with wormholes and interdimensional bridges, total badass, but sure, Thor’s girlfriend works, and do you ever realize you’re being incredibly rude but you can’t seem to stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, because that’s definitely happening to me right now and I apologize,” Darcy said, almost all in one breath. “Sorry.”

Bobbi just smiled and held up her hands apologetically. “I didn’t mean to devalue her work, or yours.”

“Sorry,” Darcy said again. “You only know what you’ve been told.”

The women regarded one another for a long moment; Darcy still hadn’t looked at Clint. 

“I was just putting away the leftovers, should I leave them out for you two?”

“No thanks,” Clint said quietly. “We already ate.”

“One of my favorite Vietnamese restaurants is up here,” Bobbi explained.

“Alright, well I’m gonna get out of your hair,” she said, popping the food in the large fridge. “Gotta catch my train.”

“You don’t live in the Tower?”

“Got a little place in Queens,” Darcy answered, shaking her head. “But Jane’s lab is a few floors down.”

“Good to keep work separate sometimes,” said Bobbi lightly. “We learned that the hard way, huh, Barton? But the suites are so nice, Stark went all out even in the guest apartments.”

“I aim to please,” Tony said, “but I kinda figured you’d be bunking up with Barton.”

“So did I,” Bobbi teased, “but I guess he’s got himself a new girlfriend.”

“Hawkeye, you sly dog!” Tony crowed. “When do we get to meet her?”

The tightness in Darcy’s chest eased somewhat, and she could see Clint, looking at her almost helplessly, out of the corner of her eye.

Bruce and Steve had already vanished, and Thor and Jane were on their way out the door. Nat rolled her eyes at Sam as they made their way back towards the elevator. “Mind your own business, Stark,” Nat called. She sighed in relief when JARVIS piped up to tell Tony that Pepper was on the phone. 

“Shit, maybe she really was listening,” he said, widening his eyes dramatically. He pressed a button on his earpiece. “Pepper, light of my life!” She could still hear him chattering as he walked over to the elevator banks.

“Yeah, I’ve heard good things about the suites,” Darcy replied. “Nice to meet you, Bobbi. You sticking around for a while?”

“Just a couple days, got some meetings and a debrief. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Good night,” she said, making her way to the exit.

“Night, Darcy,” she heard Clint say as she stepped onto the elevator.

She kept her face neutral on the ride down, aware of the surveillance system recording every public space in the Tower, and fiddled with her phone, her headphones, her coat, trying to stay cool. When she finally stepped out onto the street, made it down the block away from Stark Tower’s cameras, she took a deep, gulping breath of cold air, then another. After a minute, she felt calm enough to start walking towards the subway station, her music loud in her ears, drowning out her thoughts. She moved automatically, almost mechanically, down the stairs, through the turnstile, finding a seat, and it felt like no time at all had passed before she was at her stop, transferring to the local bus, pulling the cord, in front of her apartment. 

She zombied her way through her bedtime routine, glancing occasionally at her phone, and tried not to rant aloud because a) that’s weird when you live alone and b) it might not be good for the plants. When a series of texts buzzed through around 10, she leapt immediately onto the couch, phone in hand.

_Can we talk?_

_I mean not can we talk_

_Not in a bad way_

_Are you free right now so I can explain_

Darcy dialed Clint, and he picked up on the first ring.

“Darce, I’m sorry, it’s not what you think.”

“God, I know, I’m sorry I bailed. I think I _was _mad even though I had no right to be, but I’m not mad, babe.”

He huffed out a slow, loud breath. “I thought I’d fucked this up. I didn’t know Bobbi was coming over until we landed and she said Tony had invited her to stay. And nothing happened between us, I swear. We got divorced a few years ago, not right for each other but we’re still friends. Obviously.”

“I believe you. And I guess we never said we were exclusive anyway...,” she trailed off. “I mean, I’m not seeing anyone else, and I don’t want to, but. Divorced. I didn’t know you were married.”

“I would have told you, I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” he said, his voice low.

“No, it’s early, too soon for skeletons in closets,” she agreed.

“And for what it’s worth, darlin’, I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

“That’s good then,” she said lightly.

“But, uh, also, should we talk about whether we want the team to know? Like, I didn’t want to say anything without checking with you first.”

“I appreciate that, babe. I guess it’s up to you, they’re your teammates. I think that before today I wouldn’t have necessarily been ready to tell them, though.”

“And now?”

“It really sucked not to be able to kiss you when you walked in tonight,” she admitted softly. “Or touch you, make sure you were okay. I didn’t think I’d feel that way so soon.”

There were a few moments of silence on the other end of the line.

“Clint?”

“You could do that now if you wanted to,” he said in a rush.

“What?”

“I’m outside,” he confessed. “Sorry if it’s creepy.”

She sprung up off the couch and looked out the peephole to an empty hallway. She moved to the window that looked down on the street, spotting Clint straddling his bike. He raised a hand in greeting.

“I’ll be right down,” she said, hanging up the phone and pulling on her coat. She grabbed her keys from the table by the door and darted down the stairs and out into the night.

“This is very Bridget Jones,” she said as she walked up to him. “Only with a more sensible wardrobe.”

He’d moved to lean against the motorcycle, and he pulled her into a warm embrace. “I’ll take your word for it. Hi. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said as she nuzzled into him. “Is this a different bike?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “not really good for a passenger who hasn’t ridden before. But it’s faster than the one you’ve been on.”

She hummed into his neck.

“I want to tell people about us,” he said. “I mean, even if we don’t say ‘hey, we’re together,’ I wanna be able to kiss you and look at you and take you out without hiding it. Is that okay?”

Darcy kissed his jaw, the stubble bristling against her mouth. “Yeah, that’s okay. What would you have done if I hadn’t come down?”

“Driven back to Manhattan all heartbroken and shit,” he answered, smoothing her hair back behind her ears. “You should get back inside, sweetheart, it’s freezing out here.”

“Can’t believe you sat out in the cold to talk to me,” she said. “You could have at least snuck inside the lobby.” 

“That really would be creepy,” he protested. “I’m not trying to be a stalker, but I thought it was worth it to come out here in case you’d see me.”

“You’re a romantic, Clint Barton,” she teased wonderingly.

“Don’t tell,” he said, dropping one more kiss to her mouth before bundling her up the stairs. “Have dinner with me tomorrow?”

She nodded, smiling, and slipped back inside.

Tuesday night, after Clint drove her home from work, they went out for Indian food near her apartment.

Wednesday she was swamped; Thursday he had to fly to DC for a meeting at SHIELD HQ. Friday, he swept into the lab at 9:30 with a cup of coffee and a kiss for her. Jane was so focused on her work that she didn’t even notice the interruption, but one of the lab techs high-fived her when he left for the day.

There was a note along with the coffee, asking her to come upstairs for pizza if she had time after work. She texted him to confirm:

** _See you around 6?_ **

_Perfect._

_Full disclosure_

_I’m hoping you’ll type a report for me_

** _Haha deal_ **

They sat on the couch to work, pizza on the coffee table in front of them, Darcy’s toes tucked under Clint’s thigh as she leaned back against the arm of the couch. Other agents filtered through the kitchen and living room, and she saw Nat raise an eyebrow at Clint. Darcy pretended not to notice, and Clint rubbed the back of his neck with a shy grin.

Tony was less subtle, which was fair since she’d had moved over to cuddle up against Clint once she finished typing. Nat and Sam were on the other couch, and Steve was in the armchair Darcy had previously thought of as hers. Sam was streaming cute animal videos to the big-screen TV, and Darcy didn’t know whether she or Steve was more delighted by the antics. 

“Thought you had a girlfriend, Barton?”

He shrugged, palms up, and watched the penny drop. As soon as Tony opened his mouth again, Darcy held up a finger to cut him off.

“You can have _one_ age-related joke, Stark, and nothing lewd or misogynistic or I’m telling Pepper.”

He sputtered, mouth gaping like a fish, then threw his hands up and stormed out without a word. Darcy could hear the chuckles from their friends, but she just snuggled up to Clint’s shoulder and pulled his arm across her chest so she could play with his fingertips. He brushed a kiss across her hair, and told Sam to unpause the video.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we earn the rating.

She took the subway home that night because they’d made plans for Clint to come out to Queens for brunch on Saturday, but he texted her early that morning to say he’d been called for a mission.

_Hope I don’t wake you_

_Not sure how long this will take_

_Sorry to miss brunch_

_I’ll try to call tonight _

Disappointed, she reconsidered her plans for the morning. She’d already decided to splurge a little with February’s paycheck to buy some lingerie for whenever they took the next step, and with Valentine’s Day looming on the horizon, she figured she’d go ahead and do some shopping. They hadn’t explicitly talked about doing something for the ‘holiday,’ which she always said with mental air quotes, but there were bound to be some good deals on fancy underthings.

She made her way over to the mall, figuring department stores would have better prices than specialty boutiques, and spent a couple hours browsing before she settled on a lacy purple set. Clint had been very vocal about his appreciation of the color, and she wasn’t gonna mess with a sure thing. 

When he called that night he told her he’d be gone for at least a few weeks, and he was sorry to miss their first Valentine’s Day. She was quietly thrilled that the idea of a first meant there would be more to come in the future. They chatted for longer than normal; he couldn’t say where he was, as usual, but he did mention that none of the other Avengers were with him and he thought it would be an easy enough job, despite the expected length of the trip.

The next day, Darcy figured she’d still try to make an effort to celebrate Valentine’s Day in a couple days. She threw a plush faux-fur blanket atop the bed, curled her hair so it fell in shining waves over her shoulders, put on a full face of makeup that toed the line between sweet and sultry, and took a series of selfies in her new purple lingerie. She was rather pleased with the results and couldn’t wait to send them to Clint next time he got in touch.

On Tuesday, a big bouquet of tulips and irises showed up for her at the lab, with a hand-written note saying “Miss you. -cb.” She wondered for a second if that meant he was back early, unexpectedly, but quickly realized he’d probably just written the note before they’d set out on Saturday morning. Still, the fact that he’d thought of her, thought of the occasion, organized a flower delivery for her -- she was touched.

When he called to check in that night, she couldn’t help gushing a little, and she had a feeling he was rubbing the back of his neck as he mumbled a response about how she was special and he didn’t want her to forget it just because they couldn’t be in the same place. He only had a few minutes to talk, but before they hung up Darcy asked if she could text him a couple photos. 

“What kind of photos?” His voice was low and teasing.

“The kind you shouldn’t look at when anyone else is around,” she promised, her own tone throaty and a little nervous.

“Darce, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Clint said, picking up on the slight threadiness in her voice.

“I’ve been planning this for days,” she promised, “just, uh, never done it before. I mean, they’re not nudes, don’t get your hopes up, but I would be mortified if anyone but you saw them? So.”

“I’ll keep ‘em safe, sweetheart. And I’ll call you again when I can, I love hearing your voice, especially when I can’t be with you.”

“_You_ be safe, babe, and thank you again for the flowers.”

When they hung up, she took a deep breath and sent him the three photos she’d selected -- a full-body shot (thank god for selfie sticks), a sultry pose that made her tits look fuckin’ _great_, and a picture of her in the lingerie and the leather jacket he loved. She was a nervous ball of energy for several minutes until her phone buzzed in response.

_Good fucking god, sweetheart_

_You’re killing me_

** _I’ll make it up to you when you get back_ **

_You look gorgeous_

_Can’t believe you’re mine_

She sent him a kissy-face emoji; he responded with an eggplant, and she laughed aloud. Maybe she could convince him to reciprocate with some naughty pics of his own. Something to think about anyway.

As it was, all she could think about was him getting back to her and taking her to bed. She’d left the bouquet at the lab since she spent most of her time there, but she’d tucked a few flowers into her travel mug to bring home; she looked over to where they now sat in a small vase on the nightstand, and fell asleep dreaming of her favorite archer.

She barely heard from him over the next couple weeks, and Jane said likewise about Thor. Unfortunately, that was because Thor was back on Asgard and needed to remain there for the foreseeable future. Jane threw herself into her work with renewed vigor, frustrated and disappointed and, as she told Darcy, feeling foolish about it all because who really expected an intergalaxy relationship between a king-slash-god and a human to really work in the long run? This, of course, meant that Jane had less reason to remain in New York; although the labs in Stark Tower were obviously well-appointed, coffee aside, Darcy had a feeling that Jane would happily return to Culver University and her work with Erik Selvig, should the opportunity present itself. Which, of course, was a problem for Darcy, who was in the throes of new relationship bliss, even as the voice in her head taunted “I told you so” about her shaky career status.

She figured now was a good time to start polishing up her resume, just in case. She’d taken to hanging out in the common room again; Nat and Sam and Steve had returned from a mission with a huge surprise in tow. Although she wondered how anything could surprise her anymore, including Steve’s best friend from the 1940s coming back into the picture as a formerly-brainwashed Russian assassin. Totally normal.

Steve had apparently insisted on letting the guy, Bucky, live in the Tower, against SHIELD’s wishes for sure, but she figured there couldn’t be a safer place for him to adjust and recalibrate and recover. And who would say no to Captain America? Or Natasha, for that matter, who apparently knew Bucky when she was a kid in Russia, although she wasn’t sure of the details of that story. Or how Bucky still looked so young if he’d been alive in the 40s and the 80s, if she had to guess Nat’s age. 

She wondered how Clint felt about being a normal (super-skilled, super-hot, super-clever) human amidst all these enhanced agents. Maybe they weren’t quite there yet, relationship-wise, considering they hadn’t even slept together yet, but she thought he’d probably have a really interesting perspective on the team. 

Anyway, Bucky couldn’t move around the Tower without an escort, but the common floor was fair game, so Darcy ran into him a couple times in the evenings. She didn’t feel right updating her resume on the clock, but she sure didn’t mind using Stark’s wi-fi to do her personal computing until she was ready to go home. She and Bucky had reached a level of quiet companionship; well, he was quiet, and she was less talkative than usual, figuring he had a big enough adjustment without some loudmouth chattering at him all the time. Nat invited her to stay for dinner with her and the guys a couple times, and the five of them sat around the dining room eating Italian one night and soul food another. She was immensely jealous of the super-metabolism that allowed everyone else seconds or thirds of cheesy pasta goodness, and Sam laughed when she grumbled about being too full for peach cobbler. 

“Clint mentioned he wanted you to get some self-defense training. Couple rounds sparring with Natasha will burn off plenty of calories, if that’s something you’re worried about.” 

Nat nodded, saying they should set up a date for the gym, and Bucky waved a hand and said, “You look great, doll,” and Darcy laughed, delighted. Steve tried and failed to bite back a smile, sinking back into his chair as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Thank you, Bucky,” she said primly. “Knew I liked you.”

She really was too full for dessert but agreed to take some cobbler home in a tupperware, and she promised Nat she’d be at the gym at 4:30 the following afternoon. Clint texted her as she rode the subway home, topping off an already good evening by saying he’d be back in New York in two days. She responded with a bunch of exclamation points, giddy at the thought of seeing him again.

The commute to Manhattan was a little more hectic than usual Friday morning, what with the gym bag she was juggling in addition to her purse and work bag. _Really should consider moving into the Tower_, she thought, lugging the bags up the stairs to the street. 

She cut out of work at 4:00, told Jane she’d come back by to wrap up her work after she met with Natasha, and went to the locker room to change. Nat was already on the floor by the time Darcy came out at 4:20, chatting with Sam.

“Mind if he stays? Might help to have an extra set of eyes watching your form.”

She shrugged. “Just don’t make fun of me for getting my ass kicked,” she said.

“Not to your face,” Sam promised solemnly, and Darcy laughed.

Nat started off easy, warming up, walking Darcy through footwork and blocking before she even attempted to teach her to hit. Sam offered pseudo-helpful advice like “loosen up your shoulders” and “don’t forget to watch her eyes,” which led to a side conversation between the agents about telegraphing hits and whether Darcy was more likely to get into a scuffle with a professional boxer or your everyday, run-of-the-mill thug. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, watching with a mix of concern and amusement, before finally piping up to say how unlikely it was that anyone she fought with would be at Natasha’s level anyway, so she might as well just learn from the best. Sam backed down, then, and Darcy said maybe they could have tactical lessons separate from the physical lessons, which seemed to perk him back up.

An hour later, she was a sweaty, rubbery mess who hadn’t even thrown a punch. Her cheeks were flushed even after she showered and changed back into her work clothes, and she laughed when she came out to see Nat and Sam sparring expertly. At a break in the action, she said she should probably do some more cardio before Nat wasted any more time pulling punches on such a hopeless case. They both laughed, but Nat insisted she didn’t mind. 

“I owe Clint-- a lot,” she faltered, clearly unsure how much Darcy knew about the man’s past. “This is nothing.”

Darcy groaned but said, “In that case, I’ll still do cardio but can we do this again next week, if you’re around?”

They made plans for twice-weekly sessions, as long as Nat wasn’t off on a job, and she headed back up to the office to finish up her work for the evening. Jane was still there, as expected, and Darcy hung around until nearly 8:00 before dragging Jane out into the city to eat. With Thor gone, the scientist was spending even more time than usual in the lab, and Darcy wanted to make sure she wasn’t overdoing it. She insisted on seeing Jane back up to her apartment, giving her strict orders not to do any more work that night. She’d have run her a bath if she wasn’t worried Jane would fall asleep in it, but she did stick around long enough to see Jane showered and pajama-ed before going home.

The elevator stopped a couple floors below Jane’s, pulling her from her exhaustion-induced reverie. When Clint stepped aboard, phone in hand, his eyes went wide in surprise. She dropped her bags on the floor and threw her arms around him.

“I was coming to see you,” he said, “figured you’d be long gone. About to text you.”

He dipped his mouth to hers for a long kiss, breaking away long enough to ask JARVIS to kill the cameras, and Darcy couldn’t help the whimper she let out. Before she realized it, they were on the ground floor, and they finally broke apart, breathless, staring at one another. She’d pressed him up against the wall in her eagerness, and she’d have laughed at the incongruity if she wasn’t so overwhelmed.

“I thought you didn’t get back until tomorrow,” she panted.

“Hitched a ride to get back to you early,” he explained, spinning them around, moving to press her against the elevator wall, his hands on either side of her head. The door had opened and closed behind them, 

“I missed you,” she said, suddenly shy. 

“God, Darce. Missed you too. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He punctuated every short sentence with a kiss, and she shivered slightly. It seemed to snap Clint out of it, and he backed up, but she shot a hand out to grab his jacket and shook her head slightly.

“Can we go back to your apartment? Can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice was quiet but steady, her eyes locked on his.

“Sweetheart, yes, of course. I mean, are you sure? We don’t have to do anything, I just really needed to see you and, uh, you said after I came back last time--,” he broke off, eyes searching hers.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I mean, fuck,” she swore lowly, and his brow creased in concern, “I had this whole plan for seducing you and I thought I had another night to,” she cast about for the right word, “prepare? Like, groom? I only shaved because I went to the gym with Nat today. But if you don’t mind that I don’t look perfect, I def--.”

She was cut off by the hard press of Clint’s mouth against her own, thank god, and he growled in her ear, “You being you seduces me, honey, don’t gotta do anything else.” He bit down lightly on her earlobe, and she let out a breathy moan. She hoped JARVIS still had the cameras off.

They got back up to his apartment and he scooped up her bags over one shoulder, dropping them on the floor in the foyer as he kept the other arm tight around her waist. He walked her backwards down the hall, each of them shedding clothes as they went, and by the time the back of her knees hit the edge of his mattress they were both down to underwear. She looked down to see his half-hard cock bulging in his gray boxer-briefs, and she moaned softly. “Knew I shoulda asked you for a picture,” she said, kissing her way across his chest.

“Yeah?” Clint chuckled as he pulled her mouth back up to his. “I’ll send you some next time I have to leave, something for you to think about while I’m gone.”

Darcy climbed onto her knees on the bed, scrambled backwards, pulling him along to land between her spread thighs as she lay propped up on the pillows. He braced himself over her, slowing his kisses down, teasing and nipping at her mouth, her jaw, her ear. 

“Thought about you anyway,” she gasped out. “Touching myself, wishing it was you, wishing I hadn’t waited so long for us to do this.” 

He moaned into her neck, sucked a gentle bruise there, moved his mouth down to hover over her breast. “Tell me,” he said hoarsely, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra and pull it away from her skin.

When she started speaking, he dropped a kiss to her right nipple, soft at first.

“Thought about this, your hands on my tits, your mouth, licking and sucking and, ah, biting a little.” 

He licked and sucked a bit a little, one breast then the other, drawing her nipples into tiny, tight peaks.

“Thought about your hands all over me, taking my clothes off, how strong you are and how good your fingers would feel on my skin.”

His mouth stayed on her nipple, sucking more roughly, as he skimmed his hands over her hips, her torso, her thighs. Clint caught two fingers in the waistband of her panties, one on each side, and pulled his mouth off her to ask, “Okay?”

“God, yeah,” she said, reaching a hand down to caress his cheek for a long moment. He turned his head to place a quick kiss on the heel of her hand, then started tugging her panties over her hips. She pushed herself up to let him slide the material over her legs, sinking back down as he freed one foot, then the other.

He kissed her stomach, the soft place just under her belly button, light, feathered touches of his lips to her skin. His hands were still stroking her thighs when he urged her to continue.

“What else, gorgeous? What else did you think about?”

She drew in a shaky breath, nerves and lust and adrenaline all coursing through her system. “Thought of your mouth on me,” she said softly. “Your tongue all warm and wet, um, inside me, and on my clit. Thought about you putting your fingers in me, they’re thicker than mine, and playing with me until I come.”

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart, yeah, I wanna do all that. Can I do that for you now? Can I taste you and touch you and make you come? Please, Darcy, can I?”

All she could get out was a moaned, “Please,” before he dove in, gentle and teasing as he learned what she liked. He listened to her responses, sighs and yeses and little mewls, applying more force with his tongue when she couldn’t hold back a breathy cry. When he slipped a finger inside her, her back arched off the bed. When he slipped a second one in beside the first, found that spongy spot that made her squirm, she began to plead with him, a quiet, steady stream of “there,” and “don’t stop,” and “please, Clint.” When he curled his fingers just right and sucked her clit into his mouth, she fell over the edge, bright and loose and gasping. He worked her through it, kisses gentling until she pushed his head away.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, panting. “Jesus, the mouth on you.”

“Me? What about you, talking me through that like all my fantasies come to life.” His mouth shone slick from his efforts, and she couldn’t resist reaching up to touch his lips, red and a little puffy. He hovered over her, chest heaving, uncertain, until she reached a rubbery arm up to pull him in for a kiss, which made them both moan.

“Clint, baby,” she said, reveling at the taste of herself on his tongue.

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck me now? I need to feel you.”

His eyes grew dark again, and he scrambled over to the nightstand for condoms. Darcy stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“We can do whatever makes you comfortable, but I’m clean, got tested when we started dating. And I’m on an IUD, so no babies for me for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh, god Darce, are you sure? Are you for real?” 

She nodded, staring up at him.

“I’m clean too, we get tested monthly, but, uh, there hasn’t been anyone in a while for me anyway,” he said, ducking his head. 

“You know that’s not a problem for me, right? Like I don’t think you’re, I don’t know, whatever, for not banging someone on the reg? Like, it’s working out super in my favor,” she teased.

He just shook his head, chuckled, and asked again, “You sure you’re okay with this? I don’t mind the condom, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Clint. You are _honestly _the most romantic, delightful man I’ve ever met, and I want you to put your beautiful cock in me and I want to feel it when you come.”

He dropped his head down to kiss her again before shifting her legs, gently manhandling her in a show of strength that made her knees weak, probably, except for how she was already lying down under a gorgeous man and didn’t really need her knees for anything at the moment anyway. Until he wrapped her legs around his waist, anyway, and slowly slid into her, the stretch making her feel even more loose and boneless. She locked her ankles behind him, holding him deep while she adjusted, then held on while he made soft, sweet, filthy love to her. He dropped kisses and endearments and dirty, teasing comments, telling her all the things he’d been thinking about since she sent those pictures, all the things he’d been thinking about since they started dating, all the things he wanted to do to her, making her feel brave and loved and desirable. She came again on his cock, squeezing gently until he let go and came inside her. He kissed her once, twice more, holding himself up over her until he could roll off to the side and they could catch their breath. 

He tried gamely to stay awake, to cuddle and coddle her, but he slipped off into sleep so Darcy went to clean herself up. She settled for swishing mouthwash around since she didn’t have a toothbrush, and splashed some water on her face before climbing back into bed for some much-needed rest.

She awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee and the feel of Clint’s arm under her cheek; for a minute, she thought she was dreaming, and she was thrilled to realize it was reality. He was already awake, phone in the hand that wasn’t attached to her pillow, er, his bicep, and she savored the sight of him before nuzzling her face in his armpit. He smelled musky and clean and sexy, and she couldn’t resist placing a small kiss on his torso before looking back up at his face.

“You’re even more beautiful in the morning than I imagined,” he drawled, dropping his phone to the bed so he could tilt her chin up and press a soft kiss to her mouth.

“You really just say stuff like that, don’t you,” she teased.

“Listen, sweetheart, I have to hide a lot and hedge my bets a lot, I’m not about to keep something like that to myself. Life’s too short.” His tone was light, but she sensed he was being serious.

“In that case,” she said, dropping another kiss to his chest, “likewise. And you smell good.”

Darcy buried her face in the covers next to his arm, trying to hide her stupid, sappy smile. She chanced another look up at him and was pleased to see the flush on his cheeks matching her own. Bashful was such a cute look on him.

She rolled off his arm with a groan and stretched, long and languorous. “I’m not sure I can get out of bed,” she admitted. “Between you and Nat, I’m down for the count. Plus, I don’t have any clean clothes.”

“I, uh, had one of Tony’s robots come do the laundry,” Clint said. “What you wore yesterday and what was in your gym bag. I didn’t look in there though.”

“How long have you been up?” 

“I don’t sleep well the first night back, especially with such a beautiful sight in my bed,” he said. “Too keyed up.”

“I thought you passed out right after,” she said, a little ashamed that she’d kept him from sleeping. “You should have said, I didn’t have to stay.”

“Nope, no way,” he said, rolling over to pin her gently under his chest. He braced on one elbow and an outstretched arm, and she couldn’t resist trailing a finger over his muscles. “I did fall asleep, I just tend to wake up a few times. It was actually nice to have you here, made me feel a little calmer.”

“Hm, you’re welcome, then,” she said primly. “But that means I don’t have any excuse not to go to work now.”

“Now, now?”

She turned to look at the clock, saw it was still early. “Give me ten minutes and a cup of coffee and I’m yours for at least two more hours.” 

She tried not to gulp visibly as she climbed out of bed and walked naked across to the bathroom. From Clint’s whispered, “Fuck, Darce,” her boldness was well-received. 

A few moments after she flushed the toilet and turned off the sink, he knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Coffee,” he said, holding out a cup when she opened the door. She took a long sip, eyes closed in bliss. When she opened them again, he was watching her hungrily.

She took another drink, and set the mug down on the shelf so she could open the new toothbrush he’d left by the sink for her. She could feel his eyes on her as she finished brushing her teeth; he looked questioningly at the mug, until she told him she was abandoning the coffee in favor of fresh breath for kissing. He took one last pull from his own drink before he brushed his teeth, and Darcy took advantage of his distraction to do some hungry watching of her own; jesus, the man was beautiful, head to toe. 

As he carried the mugs to the kitchenette, she teased him for always getting coffee from the common room when he could make it in his apartment. “No beautiful women in my apartment, though,” he said, “not until now.”

She went up on her toes to kiss him, hands grasping at his bare waist, pulling him in close and turning the kiss from sweet to seductive. She could feel him growing hard against her hip already, and they fell back into bed to make good on some of those fantasies he had mentioned the night before.


	6. Chapter 6

They quickly settled into the new routine; Darcy spent a couple nights a week at the Tower, Clint would come out to her place on Friday or Saturday, all based on his work schedule, of course. She made an effort _not _to see him every day, devoted Wednesday evenings to the book club she’d joined, spent Sunday evenings in a stitch-and-bitch craft club where she tried to learn how to embroider (badly), knit (even worse), and crochet (she just laughed and devoted her energy to the bitching portion of the agenda). He was frustrated at first, wanting to spend as much time together as possible while they were both in the city; once she explained how it felt when he was gone, he was more understanding of her need to build a life that could keep her mind occupied so she wasn’t missing him, worrying about him all the time. She pointed to Jane as an example, feeling slightly guilty as she did, but not wanting her world to become so narrow.

She kept up with the sparring with Natasha, and cardio when she could make herself do it -- certainly on the days when Nat couldn’t make their meetings. Bucky was teaching her how to use knives, nothing fancy, but she felt a little better about sharp objects than other weapons. Still, when he asked her to learn how to shoot a handgun, she agreed to go down to the range with him, just to get the basics. She even did yoga with Bruce on Wednesdays before work; they’d have green smoothies for breakfast afterwards, and she could occasionally convince Jane to join them so they could talk science.

Darcy flirted with Bucky all the time, because he was there, and he was so damn good at it, and she was 99.9 percent sure he and Steve were in love and just hadn’t figured out how to tell each other. He called her Doll and told her she was gorgeous, and she called him Handsome and didn’t try to pretend like he didn’t have a metal arm. Nat and Clint ended up on a lot of the same ops, and Bucky was usually willing to step in and help with her training. They used a punching bag and a dummy, of course, no one thought it was a good idea for him to fight for real, but the fact that she wasn’t scared of him went a long way to cementing their friendship. It was kind of like the Bruce situation, when she thought about it; she was so wildly, embarrassingly unthreatening that even the arguably most dangerous agents could be trusted not to lose control around her. 

They hung out with the team a lot, in small or large groups depending on who was around, watching movies and debating pop culture. Darcy and Sam got into a heated discussion about which Hogwarts house everyone would be sorted into -- Gryffindor was the default for superheroes, Darcy said, everyone knew that, but most of the Avengers had another equally suitable house. Sam argued that he was Gryffindor through and through, and she agreed completely, but said that Steve and Thor were definitely Hufflepuffs. Nat and Tony were both Slytherins, which was decidedly not an insult. Bruce and Clint were Ravenclaw, and Bucky was with Sam in the Gryffindor camp. 

Nat chimed in that Bucky would say Steve was Gryffindor, too, never able to back down from a fight, but Clint quickly interrupted the women’s debate. 

“Wait, back up. Ravenclaws are the smart guys, right?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, turning around to face him from her position tucked against his chest on the long leather couch. She had her feet tucked up under Nat’s blanket at the other end of the cushions.

“You know I didn’t finish high school, right?”

“Okay, A of all, that wasn’t your fault and you got your GED, and B, I also thought about Hufflepuff for you, but having seen your mission reports, you’re definitely one of the smart guys. You see stuff no one else does and you can predict movement and timing and all that. Like there’s no way you hit every target by magic or magnetism, you have to think about it and use split-second decision-making and there’s, like, math or physics or _something _involved. And you have to be smart to be a spy. But I mean, really, any house would be lucky to have you,” she said, settling back down against him.

Clint just let out a _hmph_ and pressed a kiss to her hair, but Nat offered her a small smile and squeezed her foot through the blanket while the others deliberated on their houses.

Clint’s missions were unpredictable, and he was out of town as often as not. Which sucked, honestly, selfishly. The rest of the Avengers were in and out of the Tower regularly, sure, working at their day jobs (okay, that was really just Tony going to Malibu to the Stark Industries’ West Coast office) or on goodwill missions for good PR. Clint was still SHIELD though, so he got called away for recon missions and higher-risk ops. Darcy knew that going in, knew the job and the risks, and she worked to find a balance between supporting Clint and letting him know how much she missed him. She tried to be carefree and light when he said he had to go away, always available to talk to if he got a free minute, but when he came back to her she put all her strength into loving him. Without, you know, actually saying she loved him, because it still felt too soon. They’d only been together a few months, and half the time they weren’t even in the same city.

He’d successfully gotten her a higher security clearance; apparently Agent Hill really did appreciate the promptness of his post-mission reports. That became another part of their routine--after they’d fallen into bed and gotten to know one another again, they’d shut off the emotions and he would give his report. She appreciated the window into his life, even as she sometimes sensed he wished he didn’t have to tell her what he’d been up to. Occasionally -- maybe even often, she was still getting a feel for it -- he’d have to talk about one of the other agents getting injured. His skills as a sniper meant he was usually on the outside of the op, providing eyes and intel and cover, and she knew it shook him when someone got hurt on the job, even if he hadn’t made the call to put them in harm’s way. She also learned how much his handlers respected him, allowed him to make calls based on what inside intelligence he’d gathered, things he could see from his perch that they couldn’t see from base.

After one particularly brutal op that left a couple junior agents in critical condition, Clint was a state; she’d never seen him like that, which made sense, and she didn’t know how to fix it. He snapped at her when she asked him if he was okay, sarcastic and a little mean, and it took everything she had not to burst into tears. He stormed off to the shower, and she left him a note saying she’d be in the lab if he needed anything. She hated, _hated_, slinking off like she’d done something wrong, but she clearly wasn’t helping by being in his space. She tried to tell herself that was okay, he was allowed to process however he needed to, and she’d know better next time, but it fucking _hurt_.

Bucky stopped by mid-afternoon, took one look at her, and pulled her into a solid hug. When Darcy told him what had happened, he solemnly offered to go beat Clint up, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Glad to have you on my side, handsome,” she said, patting Bucky’s metal arm.

When dinnertime rolled around and the lab was mostly empty, Clint sought her out, exhaustion evident by the purple half-moons under his eyes. She knew her own eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He apologized quietly but sincerely, said he’d try to do better and that he’d made an appointment with one of SHIELD’s counselors for the next afternoon.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” she asked.

Clint nodded, swallowed hard, and turned to leave, but she jogged over to grab his arm.

“Come back to my place tonight? We can just...be together,” she said, hoping an evening away from the Tower would help them both forget about the stresses of the job. 

“What about book club?”

“Skipped it tonight, I didn’t want to leave without talking to you.”

“And if I hadn’t come down?”

“I’d have made JARVIS pester you until you at least let me see you were okay,” she said, smiling wryly. “But I wouldn’t have tried to stay overnight.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, held her for a few long minutes before they made their way to the elevator hand-in-hand. He called for a car from the pool while he packed an overnight bag, saying he didn’t want to risk driving when he was so tired. She pressed herself against his side for the 40-minute ride, tucked under his arm, holding his hand in both of hers.

He let her lead him to the couch, pull off his boots, press a beer into his hand while she heated up some leftover lasagna for them to share. She ran a bath while they ate, and they crammed into the too-small tub together, her back to his chest, and they sat in near-silence until the water cooled. Once they dried off and got ready for bed, she insisted on being the big spoon for once. Clint tried to protest, said he was the one who fucked up and he couldn’t understand why she was taking care of him, but she just turned off the lamp and told him to hush.

Under cover of darkness, she finally said that he had hurt her feelings, but that he was obviously hurting more and that this was something she could do for him. “There’s gonna be times I say stupid shit, babe, when you have to pull a little more weight because I don’t have anything to give you. You just hit that spot first, is all.”

He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle softly before pressing their threaded fingers over his heart. “I love you, Darce,” he murmured. “Sorry to tell you when I’m such a mess.”

Darcy laid a gentle kiss at the top of his spine. “I love you too, Clint. Go to sleep.”

They woke in their usual positions, Clint face-up, Darcy curled into his side, but there was an unusual heaviness hanging over them. It was far later than they usually slept, nearly 9:00, and the room was already bright with sun streaming through the windows.

“Uhh, last night,” he started when he felt her stir and press a kiss to his chest, “I think I may have said some things.”

She stilled, praying he wasn’t going to take it back.

“Just wanted to say it again in the morning so you know it’s true. I love you, Darcy.”

She sank down out of her tense posture, swatting his arm lightly then kissing over the spot. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna take it back. I love you too. Can’t believe you told me before I could brush my teeth.”

He laughed, ducked his head down to kiss her anyway. “Well let’s go brush our teeth, and I’ll tell you again. And again after breakfast, and again after we talk about me being an asshole to you yesterday.”

Clint made the coffee while she scrambled some eggs and put bread in the toaster. They worked efficiently together in the small kitchen, graceful as they moved around each other to get dishes, condiments, silverware. They sat at her little table, his back to the wall so he could see the room, her facing him, one knee pulled up near her chin. She rested her coffee cup there between sips, once she was done eating, and watched him section an orange for them to share. 

“So,” he said, handing her a piece of fruit. “I love you.”

She smiled, a quick quirk of the side of her mouth, and waited for him to continue.

“And yesterday I was a real dick to you, and I’m sorry. I-- it was a tough op and I’m not used to processing things with another person. Or I guess at least with someone outside of this line of work. And I wasn’t okay, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you were just trying to help, and I’m sorry I spoke to you that way.”

“Apology accepted,” she said, grateful when he took the hand she’d reached out across the table. “Anything I can do different next time?”

“Tell me to stop being an asshole,” he offered, smiling ruefully. “I spent all day thinking about the look on your face, hating myself for putting it there.” 

He held her hand gently, stroked her knuckles with his thumb.

“I was pretty.... I was upset,” Darcy admitted with a sigh, staring down at the table. “All fuckin’ day. You made me feel stupid, or maybe naive, and I just wanted you to feel better. I didn’t deserve that.”

He squeezed her fingers, and she raised her head to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Uh, I think I mentioned I am going to one of the counselors this afternoon, and I’ll ask for some tips on controlling my temper when I’m emotional.”

“Thank you, baby. And I mean it, you’re forgiven, but I appreciate that you’re gonna try to get help with it. Um, it sounds like maybe this isn’t the first time you’ve had to deal with this?”

“It’s not,” he said on a sigh. “And sometime maybe we can talk about it, but for now can you just trust that I’m trying to learn from previous mistakes?”

“Babe, of course,” she said, rising from her chair to stand in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek against her belly. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him for a minute, aware again of how intimate the situation was. She’d gotten used to tough-guy Clint, and it brought her up short every time she showed her that he needed her. When he pulled away, she leaned down to kiss him before announcing brightly that he was on clean-up duty. 

He groaned theatrically, but cleared the table and washed the dishes while she got dressed. She’d already texted Jane that she’d be in late, and she gave her inbox a cursory glance while he got ready. Since there was nothing urgent, they decided to take the subway into Manhattan instead of calling a cab. The car wasn’t too crowded since rush hour was over, and they slipped into a couple seats by the door, Darcy’s shoulders tucked under Clint’s arm. He was surprisingly affectionate, nuzzling behind her ear, holding her hand with his free arm, even as she sensed him assessing the environment. When they finally made it up to the street, she teased him lightly about being claustrophobic, knowing he’d understand she wasn’t mocking him.

“Just like to have multiple exit points,” he said, kissing her temple as he scanned the crowds around them. 

“You should have said,” she admonished. “We’ll take a cab next time, or call for a car.”

“It’s good to keep me on my toes every once in a while,” he said, but she felt some tension seep out of him as they scanned their IDs in the Tower lobby and boarded the elevator.

He dropped her off at the lab, with a kiss and another “Love you.” Jane hadn’t even noticed that she was late, hadn’t seen the text, but she did recognize how much Darcy’s mood had shifted since yesterday.

“Everything worked out, then?” Jane asked lightly.

Darcy nodded. “Getting there, yeah.” She was unsure how much detail to go into, considering Jane was still sensitive about her own relationship with Thor. But her boss just nodded, looking pleased, and began running through a list of things she needed Darcy to take care of.

She was surprised, then, when a couple hours later Jane insisted they leave the lab and go to lunch off-site. Her stomach fluttered as she ran through the possibilities: Darcy wasn’t working hard enough, something had happened to Erik, the money had run out and Jane was letting her go. She fought her natural urge to chatter as they walked to a falafel cart and found a bench in Bryant Park; when Jane finally said, “So, your birthday’s coming up,” Darcy almost choked on her relieved laughter.

Jane looked at her strangely but pressed on, asking about her plans, what she and Clint were going to do, whether her mom was coming up for a visit. Darcy admitted that she hadn’t told him yet, figuring she’d say something on the actual day if he was in the city and if not, they’d celebrate after the fact. She didn’t confess about the money she’d be inheriting, but she did casually mention she’d need a couple hours off that morning; she’d made an appointment with the lawyer back in January, as soon as her mom told her about her grandmother’s will. 

She didn’t immediately register the grimace on Jane’s face when she said she hadn’t told Clint, focused as she was on her pita, and she backtracked after a minute, hand halfway to her open mouth. “It’s not like I’m keeping it a secret from him,” she said, frowning. “I just don’t want him to feel bad if he’s not here, and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it like I’m a kid or something. Although I guess every birthday makes the age difference a little less weird.”

Jane just shoved a forkful of food in her mouth. Eventually, she said, “Well at least let me take you out for a drink after work, it’s tradition.” Darcy nodded, remembering the small celebrations they’d had on each of their birthdays, and said it was a date. They finished up their meals and meandered the few blocks back to the Tower, enjoying the crisp air and bright sun. It was almost spring, and the weather was playing along nicely; she almost didn’t want to go back to work, and when Jane said the same thing aloud, Darcy nearly dropped her water bottle. Jane _loved_ her work. Those butterflies came back, not in full force, but enough that she knew there was probably a tough conversation on the horizon, even if neither of them was ready to acknowledge it yet.

Clint was especially solicitous when he stopped back by the lab that afternoon and asked Darcy if she’d like to stay for dinner. As she tended to spend Thursday nights at the Tower anyway, she figured this was a result of his meeting with the counselor, and she accepted the invitation with a small but sincere smile. One perk of dating an older man, she decided, was that he had his shit together a lot more than anyone her age. He was willing to do the work to be better, and that said a lot about what kind of man he was. 

She expected him to order in or suggest they head out somewhere in the city to eat, but after she dropped her stuff off at his apartment he said he wanted to cook for her. The apartments in the Tower all had kitchenettes for the basics, but the only full-fledged kitchen was on the common floor, so she followed him there. He’d already started prepping before she left work, and she sat at the counter with a beer while he assembled enchiladas. 

The dining table was big enough for the whole team plus guests, but when she moved to put out plates she saw that Clint had already started setting up at the end of the table. There were placemats set out, one at the head so he could keep his back to the wall and the other next to it so they could be close. He’d put little vase of daisies in front of them, cloth napkins at each place, silverware already out.

He glanced over his shoulder as he prepared the rice, watching her silent approach, and he let out a small grunt as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. He relaxed against her, and neither of them spoke for several minutes. Finally, she cleared her throat and stepped away, blushing slightly.

“I know that gestures don’t make up for bad behavior, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” he explained, turning to look at her. She tilted her face up for a kiss, which he happily obliged, and they finished getting dinner ready together in a quiet little bubble of affection.

So quiet, in fact, that halfway through the meal Darcy realized no one else had stepped foot on the common floor since she arrived. Not that everyone was around all the time, but as far as she knew, most of the Avengers were in the Tower, and there was no reason for them to all be absent at once. The tips of Clint’s ears turned pink as he confessed that he’d threatened everyone to leave them alone for a few hours, on pain of...if not death, at least an arrow to a beloved personal item. She couldn’t help but laugh at that, and his eyes crinkled in a smile at her reaction.

Still, it put a bit of a ticking clock on their dinner, and when they finally pushed their plates away, Clint told JARVIS that the lockdown was over. Steve and Bucky came in almost immediately, looking for food, and Clint offered them the leftovers if they’d take care of cleanup. Steve nodded, figuring the trade-off was worth it, and she knew they’d make short work of the meal. Bucky was glaring at Clint, unspeaking, and she shot him a look -- she didn’t want him to stir something up now that they were back on an even keel.

She tugged her boyfriend back to the elevator, back to his apartment where they could watch a movie and make out. He nipped her ear as they rode, murmured that he had dessert for later but he’d be happy to forgo it for the right motivation, and laughed when Darcy pouted. “Fine,” he said, “you can have your cake and eat it too.” 

She smiled up at him smugly. “You’re too good to me, baby.”

“What was up with Barnes’ death stare?” Clint pulled her down on the couch next to him and reached for the remote.

She wrinkled her nose before answering, “He may have seen me...upset...yesterday. And may have assumed you were the cause. Because I may have mentioned you were the cause.” Darcy shrugged, tilting her head to one side.

“Huh,” Clint muttered. “Is he gonna try to fight me to defend your honor?”

“Maybe,” she said brightly, “but I think you can take him.”

He grumbled again, and her pulled him in for a kiss.

They chatted throughout the movie, a B flick that had them laughing as often as cringing. Clint nitpicked all the action scenes, Darcy chiming in occasionally to say that Natasha or Bucky had taught her how to get out of that hold or how to effectively use a knife against someone bigger than her. They started side-by-side, his arm around her shoulders, but by the end of the movie they were horizontal, Clint bracing himself over her as they distracted each other. 

“I don’t know how I feel about them teaching you to fight,” he mused, dropping slow kisses on her jaw and neck. “Self-defense is one thing, but I hate the thought of my sweet girl out there getting her hands dirty, even if it would be incredibly hot.”

She couldn’t help a little moan at his words, her eyes dropping closed, and he nudged her jaw with his nose until she looked at him.

“I like it when you call me that,” she said, her voice husky. “Sweet. I don’t know, makes me feel a little shivery inside.” 

“Yeah? You wanna be sweet for me, gorgeous?”

Darcy blushed and nodded up at him, biting her lip at his wicked grin.

“Bet you taste real sweet tonight, gonna let me taste you?” Clint began moving down her body, kissing softly, teasing her until he found out just how sweet she could be.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks later, Darcy turned 25. She spent an hour at the lawyer’s office, signing paperwork and trying to make sense of the legal jargon he was throwing at her. Finally, she just held up a hand and asked if there were any strings attached to the money. When he shook his head no, she just smiled, thanked him for his time, and signed the last page of the form. After the secretary delivered her copy of the signed document, along with a check for $30,000, she walked two blocks to the nearest branch of her bank, where she had an appointment with a personal finance advisor. 

After another hour of technical conversation, albeit a bit more understandable than the legalese, she had deposited $25,000 in her savings account. She put the other $5000 in checking for immediate use, intending to pay her landlord another few months in advance, knock out some minor credit card bills, and stock up on groceries. She debated splurging on wi-fi for the apartment, but decided she was making do fine without it, at least for now. Although her student loan interest rate was low, she planned to pay off as much of the balance as she could with the gift, but she wanted to feel what it was like to have that much cash on hand for at least a few days before she transferred the money from her savings account. After she paid off her loans, she’d only have a couple thousand bucks left in savings, but she’d be able to build up a cushion quickly enough once she wasn’t throwing three hundred a month to Sallie Mae.

That sorted, she stopped for an iced coffee on her way to Stark Tower, pushing up the sleeves of her maroon blazer in the warmth of the sun. Clint had texted her that morning to say hi, from whatever secret location he’d been sent to earlier that week. She’d tried not to feel smug when she told Jane he wouldn’t be around, but the “I told you so” was somewhat less powerful when she couldn’t stop scowling.

When she got into the lab, Jane was nowhere to be found; Lakeisha, one of the techs, said she’d been in early to drop off a piece of coffee cake for Darcy, then disappeared. Darcy texted her friend a thank you, followed by a where are you, and Jane showed up again shortly thereafter, looking a little flustered.

“Sorry, boss, did you forget I was going to be out this morning?” She winced, feeling guilty that Jane had clearly needed her help for something. “It was on the calendar, but I should have reminded you.”

“It’s fine,” Jane reassured her. “We’re still on for drinks tonight, right? 6:30?”

“Whenever you say, Janie,” she said, opening up her laptop. She buckled down immediately, still wary about having left Jane in the lurch, but after breaking for a late lunch she was at loose ends. The filing was caught up, the supplies she’d ordered hadn’t arrived yet, there were no grants to chase, she’d seen Jane eat a sandwich. She had nothing to do, which was especially worrying when she’d already missed two hours of work that day.

She rolled her chair away from the desk, saw that Jane was deep in concentration in front of the projection in the middle of the lab, and pulled out her phone to text her mom. When she received an immediate response, she stepped out of the lab and walked down to the little nook by the elevator to get some privacy, dialing as she went.

“Hi, kiddo, happy birthday! Guess I can’t call you kiddo anymore, huh?” Her mom’s voice was warm over the line, and Darcy couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face.

“I’ll always be your kiddo, Momma. Thanks for the card, I got it yesterday.”

“How’d it go this morning?”

“Good, um, I got enough to pay off my student loans and have a little bit of cushion. No more quarters for my daily commute, I think I can actually afford a full month metropass. I’m gonna wait a couple days to pay the loans, just to bask in the feeling,” she laughed, “but it’s gonna be a big help.”

“Darcy, that’s great. I wish...I’m sorry this is the only way you got to know her.”

“I know, Mom, me too.”

They were silent for a minute, before Emma spoke again.

“So what are you up to tonight, anything fancy? Renting a car?”

Darcy laughed again. “Jane’s taking me out for a drink after work, that’s our birthday tradition. Clint’s away so-- uh, so it’ll just be me and Jane.”

“Clint?” She could hear the surprise in her mom’s voice.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been sort of seeing someone for a few months? I was gonna tell you, it’s just...wanted to make sure it was serious, I guess?” She felt a smile creep across her face, again, and she knew her mom heard it in her voice.

“And what does Clint do?”

“He’s in...security,” Darcy thought quickly. “He travels a lot for work, but when he’s here we’re together, and we talk and text a lot when he’s away.”

There was another beat of silence, and Emma’s voice was wary when she spoke again. “Darce, I know you’re an adult, and I trust your judgment...”

“But?”

“But a guy who ‘travels for work’ a lot, that’s sometimes a sign that he’s got some other stuff going on. I’m not saying he’s being unfaithful, just...be careful.”

Darcy breathed out slowly, trying not to let her irritation show. She knew her mom meant well, could see how someone could read the situation that way, but she wasn’t at liberty to go into more detail about how she knew her boyfriend really was traveling for work.

“I will, Momma, but I trust him. I love him.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll have to meet him sometime, then.” Emma deliberately made her tone light, and Darcy appreciated it.

“I’ll see what I can do. But, um, I better go, I see Jane coming out of her physics stupor and I better see if she needs me. I just wanted to check in.”

“Thanks for calling, kiddo, I love you. Happy birthday.”

“Love you too, Mom, thanks for having me!”

Darcy pressed end, smiling again, and made her way back to the lab. She spent a little while on LinkedIn, and a little while longer on actually-fun-social-media, reserved the next book club book from the library, logged in to her student loans website and stared smugly at the balance that would soon disappear, anything to fill the time until Jane needed her again. She had just cued up a webinar on spreadsheets for dummies, figuring a little professional development never went amiss, when a delivery woman came out of the elevator with half a dozen large boxes on her little cart. She slid off her headphones and went to sign the tablet, waving a couple of the techs over to help her stack the boxes in the lab. 

Most of it was standard office supplies -- whiteboard markers, pens and pencils, notepads and graph paper, snack foods and paper products to replenish the hospitality area. Anything higher-tech came from specialty sources or from Tony Stark himself. She’d also ordered herself a new external hard drive, considering her computer was so often on the fritz, and she busied herself the rest of the afternoon with backing up her machine.

She gave Jane a 15-minute warning to wrap up, smiling cheekily as she said, “It’s party time!” Jane convinced Darcy to leave her bag and coat in the lab, saying she could come back up to get it before she headed home, and they went over to their favorite little Mexican hole in the wall for margaritas. It was crowded so they sidled up to the bar, and Darcy snagged a couple seats as their occupants left. 

“It’s a birthday miracle!” she exclaimed, making Jane laugh.

They ordered drinks -- traditional for Jane, strawberry for Darcy -- and the bartender threw in a couple shots of tequila on the house since they were regulars. They talked about everything and nothing, work stuff and men and the overlap there. Drawing on her liquid courage, Darcy asked Jane if she planned to stay at Stark Tower now that she and Thor were over, and Jane reluctantly admitted that she was strongly considering moving back to Virginia to rejoin Erik at Culver. 

“I didn’t want to tell you on your birthday, though,” she said, “especially since it’s not a sure thing. New York is just too big for me sometimes.”

“No, Janie, I get it. I mean, I am in _no _hurry for you to leave but I guess I can’t stay in my college job forever, huh?”

“You know I’d be lost without you,” Jane said loyally. “Anyway, let’s not borrow trouble, we’re celebrating! Except that I have to get back up to the lab to check on that algorithm, it should be done running by now.”

They finished their drinks, waving a thank you to the bartender. Jane had placed an order for quesadillas to take back with them, and she’d already picked up the tab.

“Let me just put these in the fridge for later,” she said, gesturing with the styrofoam container and pressing the button for the common floor with her free hand. Darcy nodded, pulling out her phone to see if she had any messages. They rode up giggling about the birthday meme one of her craft club buddies, Maura, had sent her, and Darcy texted back a party hat emoji before tucking her phone back in her bag.

She was glad she wasn’t holding anything when the doors opened onto the common floor, because she definitely would have dropped it in shock when she saw the balloons and streamers hanging over the kitchen and dining area. 

“Surprise!” Jane said softly, nudging her friend out to their waiting friends. Nat and Sam were there, and Steve and Bucky. Bruce had brought up some of his lab techs, who were looking warily at Jane and Darcy’s colleagues, and Tony was standing at the bar pouring champagne. 

“You guys,” Darcy wailed, touched that people had come out to celebrate her birthday. Quite frankly, she’d always assumed she got on people’s nerves; she was younger than the rest of them, no special skills except a penchant for organization and making good coffee, and she knew she talked too much. But here they all were, laughing at the shocked look on her face, pulling her in for hugs or high-fives. The only thing that would make it better would be--

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.” Clint’s strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind as he murmured into her ear. 

She whirled around, her hair streaming out behind her, and she threw her arms around his neck, darting up to kiss him. “I thought you were gone!”

“Got back last night, but I wanted to surprise you,” he said, his eyes crinkling up. “Imagine _my_ surprise last week when Jane told me your birthday was coming up.”

Darcy had felt him walking them over to the windows, giving them a little privacy, but she still kept her voice low as she explained that she didn’t want to pressure him into being there to celebrate. “I know you’re busy with much bigger stuff than my birthday,” she said, snuggling against his chest. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “But I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too, darlin’. We can talk about this later, but I don’t want to hog you when there’s a party in your honor.” He dropped a kiss to her mouth, and she smiled.

“Don’t go far, though,” she said softly. 

He nodded, threading their fingers together to pull her back over to their friends. Tony handed them each a glass of champagne, and after a quick toast, everyone fell back into their conversations. She circulated, Clint at her side most of the time; he got sidetracked by Sam and Natasha, and Darcy continued on to talk to Bucky, who was standing by a platter of empanadas. He put his plate down and pulled her into another big hug.

“Can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone it was your birthday,” he chastised her. “I thought we were friends!”

“We are!” she insisted, laughing. “I just didn’t...I didn’t tell anyone. Jane only knows because we have a tradition.” 

“But all this is okay?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, gesturing around at the party.

“Yeah, definitely, it’s amazing. I didn’t really know anyone liked me this much, you know?”

“What’s not to like, doll? You’re smart, funny, and cute as a button. If this one hadn’t grabbed you up,” he said, nodding towards Clint as he approached, “I’d be all over you.” 

Clint’s smile was a little tight as he glanced between them. Bucky was smirking when she looked back at him, and she swatted him when she realized he was trying to make Clint jealous. “Play nice, Buck.”

When Clint reached them, she tucked herself under his arm and tilted her head up to press a kiss on his jaw.

“Did you see your gift table?” He was obviously trying to distract her, and Darcy let him. 

“Presents! That’s too much,” she said, letting him lead her over to the table holding packages and cards. “Should I open them now? I think I’ll wait, is that okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll take ‘em back to my place,” he said. “If you want, I mean. You wanna stay here tonight or go back to yours?”

“Mmm, back to mine? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll call a car in a little bit. I think Jane’s got a cake for you first, though.” He nodded behind her, where Jane was indeed standing over a sheet cake. She saw Darcy looking and waved her over.

“Come see this cake before we set it on fire,” she commanded.

“Sure thing, boss lady,” she said, pulling Clint along behind her. There were a couple boxes of candles on the counter next to the sheet cake. It was decorated with pink and green flowers, and someone had carefully written “Happy 25th, Darcy!” in pink script.

“Needs more purple,” he murmured in her ear.

“I’ll make sure to put purple flowers on your birthday cake,” she responded faux-seriously.

Clint smirked. “I’ll hold you to that, it’s in June.”

She snapped a quick picture to post on Instagram, then allowed Jane to put seven candles, arranged in groupings of two and five, on the cake. Tony told JARVIS to hit the lights as Jane lit the candles, and the whole gang sang to Darcy, who was grateful the dim lighting hid her blush. She leaned over and blew, laughing as the trick candles sputtered back to life, and Sam came to her rescue and plucked the sparking objects out of the cake. He dropped them in a little bowl of water as Steve picked up the knife to begin cutting and serving.

“Hope that doesn’t mean your wish won’t come true,” Steve teased as he handed her the first square, a very frosting-y corner piece.

“Don’t even joke,” she said, pointing her fork at him like a weapon. “I don’t think I could ask for much more than what I’ve got though.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He looked pleased as he glanced over at Bucky, who was waving his hands wildly as he told Clint and Natasha a story. They were all three laughing, and she was struck by how much it must mean to Steve to have his best friend back, fitting in despite the violence and utter weirdness of his past.

“I don’t want to pry,” she said quietly, mindful of the other guests coming up to grab plates of cake, “but I am pretty sure you could have a little bit more if you wanted it.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, looking studiously down at the cake he was cutting.

“I know I’m young, Stevie, but I don’t think second chances like this come around all too often. And speaking as someone who’s had to make my life work around the work you guys do, even in a different capacity, you know, it can be done. And it’s worth it. And I think he thinks so too.”

“My he or your he?”

“Both! But I think you’re gonna have to make the first move, because it’s pretty scary to try to insinuate yourself into a group like this, even if it pays off.” Darcy took the last bite of her cake. 

“How old are you again?” Steve’s tone was teasing, but the tips of his ears were pink. 

“Take a chance, Steve, it’s a new world.” 

She picked up a couple plates and carried them over to Nat and Clint. Bucky pouted at her, but she nodded her head towards Steve. “I think he could use a hand,” she explained. 

She watched as Bucky glanced up, hope evident on his features, and walked over to Steve without a word. When she turned back, Natasha was looking at her with a raised brow.

“Hey, I’m just trying to spread the love,” Darcy said with a grin, but she wondered if she was overstepping. Bucky and Steve were from a different time, and with all the other changes they were getting used to, she wasn’t trying to force them to make a move before they were ready. Still, when Clint pressed a kiss to her temple, she was relieved -- maybe she wasn’t meddling too much. And when she looked over to see her friends pressed shoulder to shoulder over the half-cut cake, ignorant of everything but each other, she felt like she’d done a good deed after all.

As her reward, she decided it was about time to take Clint home for her birthday present. She started making the rounds to say goodbye, insisting that they leave the cake in the fridge for everyone else to pick at, giving Jane a long, hard hug of friendship and gratitude, letting Bruce pack up the gifts into a couple large shopping bags for her to tote home. Clint called the motor pool for a ride, and one of Tony’s drivers was waiting in a black sedan when they reached the garage, loaded down with presents and Darcy’s work bag and Clint’s duffle and a couple to-go boxes full of finger foods that they could reheat at her place.

The driver, Britt, loaded the bags in the trunk while they slipped into the backseat; as soon as Darcy gave her the address, Britt closed the privacy screen and Clint wrapped his arms around Darcy’s shoulders, tugging her to the middle of the seat. 

“Missed you,” he said gruffly, holding her tight. She reached up to grab his forearm, tilting her head backwards to rest on his shoulder.

“Me too, baby. This was the best surprise.”

“The party?” he teased.

“I mean, the party _was _pretty special. I didn’t-- I know everyone likes me fine, like, I don’t feel unwelcome or anything, but I hadn’t realized they weren’t just your friends, you know? I guess I knew they were my friends too but it just hadn’t occurred to me so clearly.”

He hummed an acknowledgment.

“But having you there, that was...everything. Which makes it even more dumb that I didn’t tell you about my birthday. I guess I just didn’t realize how much it meant to me to spend it with you?”

He dropped a soft kiss to her hair. “Wanna tell me why you didn’t wanna tell me?”

She squirmed a little, grateful her back was to his chest so she didn’t have to look at him as she revealed her vulnerability. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to choose. Because, um, maybe I would be hurt if you didn’t pick me. And, like, if a work thing comes up, I know that needs to come first because of what you do, and I honestly support that, today was just...I knew it was gonna be a weird day.”

“Yeah? Weird how?”

“First off, it’s the first birthday where I’ve been in love with someone, so that was new.” Clint’s arms tightened around her shoulders, and she continued. “And, uh, I don’t know, there was a thing with my grandmother, my father’s mom, it’s not a big deal, just she left me something and I never really knew her. And I got that today, and I had to talk to my mom about it.”

“Hmmm. How’s your mom?” She could have kissed him for not prying, but settled for tilting her head to rest against his cheek.

“She’s good, I told her about you, actually.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure she was thrilled to hear about her daughter dating an older man with a dangerous job.” 

His tone was sardonic, but she knew there was a real sense of discomfort there.

“Actually she just warned me that older men who ‘travel on business’,” she crooked her fingers in air quotes, “a lot are sometimes hiding a secret family so I should be careful.”

“Well, darlin’, you already know about my ex-wife, and if there’s a kid somewhere it’s a secret to me too.” He chuckled, but before the mood was broken completely, she wanted to be serious for a minute longer. She pulled out of his embrace and turned to face him.

“Even if I can’t tell my mom or my friends or anyone what you do, it’s not because I’m trying to hide you. I know the work you do is dangerous, and it’s scary for me to think about you out there. But I hope you know how proud I am of you, Clint, how much you impress me every day. ”

They were only a few blocks away from her apartment, so his answering kiss was gentle, but she could hear the emotion in his voice when he replied simply, “Thanks, Darce.”

The car stopped in front of her building, hazard lights blinking as Britt opened the door for them to clamber out. The driver went around to the trunk to retrieve their packages; Darcy fumbled for a tip but she waved it off with a smile, saying Mr. Stark paid his staff more than fair wages. She wished them a good night and Darcy a happy birthday, and waited until they were in the foyer before driving off.

Loaded down with gifts and food, and feeling the lingering effects of several glasses of champagne, she trudged up the last few steps to her apartment. Clint chuckled at her exaggerated pout, swiping the keys from her hand to let them both inside. They dropped their packages by the couch, and he rested his hands on her shoulders for a minute, massaging lightly, before sending her off to take a shower. 

“I’ll heat this up,” he said, waving the box of leftovers, “and you can open your presents while we eat.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased, turning to kiss him softly. She trundled off to follow his orders, slipping behind the divider screen to get undressed and pull on her robe. She lingered in the shower, but not too long, eager to be reunited with Clint after their time apart. By the time she was dried off and dressed in her pajamas, he had loaded the food up on a couple plates and brought it over to the coffee table, along with two steaming mugs of cinnamon spice tea.

She let out a groaning laugh as she sat down, tugging her gray robe around her. Her purple polka-dot nightdress peeked out at the hem and in the vee of the robe.

“What’s up,” he asked as he dropped down beside her.

“Twenty-five and I’m an old lady, with my tea and my robe and my not-even-sexy nightgown even though I haven’t seen my boyfriend in days and it’s my birthday.”

“Nope, no talking about you being old, because if you’re old then I’m ancient.” He tugged her over to sit almost in his lap, her knees bent over his thighs as she leaned back against the arm of the couch. 

“Not true.”

“And everything you wear is sexy, ‘cuz it’s on you.” He leaned down to kiss her jaw, untying the belt of her robe and sliding a hand in to rub her hip over the fabric of her nightgown. 

“And this pretty purple, and the lace here...” he traced along the frilled neckline before dipping his fingers lower; she shivered and closed her eyes.

“You look sweet, Darce,” he said, his voice low, teasing.

“Not fair,” she whined. “You know what that does to me.”

“It’s perfectly fair, considering what you do to me.” He nipped at her earlobe, drawing another little shudder, and she felt him press against her as he leaned forward. “Now drink your tea.”

Darcy’s eyes snapped open, and she let out a soft _hmph_ when she saw the smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. She took the mug from his hands, though, and let him rest a plate of hors d’oeuvres on her knees for them to share. They ate quietly for a few minutes, content to be together, and when they finished she shifted to be back at his side.

There were nearly a dozen gifts piled up on the table, and she opened each one with enthusiasm and a total disregard for the fancy gift-wrap most of them came in. Some were no surprise -- assorted teas from Bruce in springtime blends, a new laptop sleeve from Jane, a green cashmere wrap from Tony that she was sure Ms. Potts had picked out. Steve had framed a quick, simple sketch of the Brooklyn Bridge, and she was delighted to see the small SR dashed at the bottom. A Steve Rogers original would probably be worth a fortune, not that she’d ever part with it.

The tag on the gift from Sam and Nat said “Open Bucky’s first.” Darcy grinned when she unwrapped the small, sharp knife; the handle was mother-of-pearl and had her initials etched in. It was badass and pretty and she hoped she never had to use it. The accompanying sheath and holster from Sam and Natasha were perfect, burnished dark tooled leather. 

Clint groaned when he saw the field knife, but just made her promise to be careful. She pressed a cheeky kiss to his jaw and moved on to the stack of cards. She laughed when she shook an iTunes gift card out of the final envelope, and read the neat script aloud: “Ms. Lewis, I understand that your assistance with Agent Barton’s paperwork has been invaluable. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude, along with my best wishes for a happy birthday. P. Coulson.”

“Your ex-boss loves me,” she crowed, tossing the card down and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know you two were talking again.”

“Yeah, the whole not-dying thing was kind of a lot, but I think he and Hill still work pretty closely together,” he started to explain. When she started mouthing at his neck, he quickly changed gears. “But we can talk about that later,” he finished on a moan.

She pulled him in for a kiss, lingering to chase the taste of cinnamon in his warm mouth. They continued for a little while, kissing slow and sweet, hands roaming gently, before she moved to straddle his lap. He skimmed over her thighs, her hips, her ass with his fingers, light and teasing, before retracing with a firmer touch, and she gave herself over to the sensations, moaning softly into his mouth.

“More, please,” she murmured. “I need you.”

Clint tightened his hold but pulled his mouth away from hers, lips reddened. “You haven’t opened your gifts from me yet,” he teased, voice gravelly and a little shaky. 

She tried not to feel smug about having that effect on him, even as she reached between them to undo the button on his jeans and slowly ease the zipper down. “Let me remedy that, then.”

After they cleaned up, Darcy lolled on the couch while he got them some water. He came back with three small packages, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the terrible wrapping job, even as she was touched by the effort. She leaned back on the cushions, Clint next to her with his hand warm on her bare thigh, and tore into the largest gift. It was an external battery for her laptop.

“Practical,” he said, shrugging.

“Very. Thank you, it’s great.”

He handed over the next present, much smaller, and she drew in a gasp when she opened the box to see a delicate silver chain linking two ends of an arrow. “Clint! I love it. Will you put it on me?”

He seemed almost embarrassed as he leaned over and fastened the clasp around her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin and hiding his face as he mumbled, “I hope it’s not too much, I’m not trying to, like, brand you or whatever.”

She pulled back, fingering the arrow, and said softly, “I like people knowing I’m yours. I like both of _us _knowing I’m yours, when you’re away and I’m thinking about you, I like that I’ll have this.” She leaned forward again to kiss him, cupping his cheek in one hand. “I love you.”

“Me too. And, last but not least,” he passed over the third package, watching as she opened the flat parcel. “This is a little nebulous, I guess, depending on when we can get time off and, uh, some other stuff.”

She looked up from the glossy brochure and cardstock in her hands, information about a quaint bed and breakfast in State College, PA. “This is on the way to my mom’s house.” 

“Yeah. I mean, obviously I didn’t know you had told her about us but I thought, I hoped you would at some point. I know it’s early, so no pressure, but uh, even if you aren’t ready for me to meet her yet anytime soon I thought we could take a ride out there some weekend and you could visit her and we could have a couple nights away. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.” He was rubbing the back of his neck again, and when he darted his eyes over to Darcy he blushed at the expression of love on her face.

“Babe, this is...you’re incredible. This is so thoughtful, all of it, you surprising me and you being here, and the gifts, I’m-- I’m babbling, but I’m so in love with you. Thank you. I would love to take a trip with you, and I would love to see my mom, and I would love for you to meet her if that’s something you’d like. I’m almost sorry we already had birthday sex because I want to properly show my appreciation and I don’t think I can do it with just words.”

He looked at her fondly, even as the blush faded on the tops of his cheeks. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go to sleep and you can thank me tomorrow. And the next day. And on vacation.” He flashed her a wicked grin, rising from the couch and pulling her up for one more kiss before dragging her off to bed.

Clint called a car to take them back to Manhattan in the morning, dropping her off at the lab with a kiss on his way to the range. He ran his fingers lightly over the arrow resting under the dip in her collarbone, and Darcy couldn’t help the blush that stole over her cheeks. 

“I, uh, I actually had something for you too, but I got caught up in everything yesterday,” she said, pulling a single key out of a zippered pocket on her messenger bag. “Just so you can come in whenever?” 

The crinkles around his eyes when he smiled belied the casualness with which he slipped the key onto the ring in his pocket. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, chaste and quick, before he murmured, “Thanks, darlin’. Have a good day, I’ll see you tonight?”

She nodded, said she’d come to his apartment when she got off work, and they parted ways. She floated into the lab on a cloud of love and affection, surprising Jane when she wrapped her arm around her shoulders and thanked her for the party. They didn’t typically go in for affection, considering the professional nature of their relationship, but Jane patted her hand awkwardly for a moment before Darcy pulled away and settled down at her desk. She didn’t even feel guilty about updating her resume in front of Jane, considering their conversation the day before.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few weeks passed in a flurry of activity, work and dating and book club and strolling through the streets in the spring weather. Clint got called away for a long mission, longer than Darcy was used to anyway, and they spent a nearly month apart with little contact. Jane went to Culver University for the alumni panel and decided to extend her trip, sending Darcy back to spend a rootless and restless week in the lab with no supervision. She took to visiting Bruce’s lab in the afternoons, just to see if she could help with anything there, but he had his own systems in place to keep track of his work. She could at least keep him supplied with cups of freshly brewed tea, which helped her feel less useless.

Unmoored with both her boss and her boyfriend out of the city, she spent the first week of May at very loose ends. Bucky finally took pity on her on Thursday night and dragged her to the gym for an unscheduled sparring session. It was way more fun than it should have been; with Clint gone, she had no outlet for the physical release she’d become accustomed to, and although Bucky obviously pulled his punches even with his flesh hand, he was willing to tussle with her in a way that Natasha and the other agents avoided. She let her frustration and boredom out on the mat, punching at Bucky’s palms, letting him manhandle her gently, until she was sweating and panting and aching.

“Mercy,” she finally huffed out, flat on her back as Bucky leaned over her with a smug grin.

“You’ve gotten better, doll,” he said, dropping down next to her and passing over a bottle. She squirted the sports drink into her mouth, then rolled over to rest her head on her folded arms.

“Been conditioning,” she said, winking exaggeratedly. Bucky laughed, swatting her elbow.

“Me too,” he admitted, cheeks pinking.

“Been running?” Darcy teased, but she pulled herself up to a sitting position to chat with her friend.

He rolled his eyes and said in a low voice, “Steve and I have been...warming up? We’re not, uh, not quite there yet, but we’ve been properly dating since your birthday. So thanks for that.”

“Bucky!,” she squealed quietly. “That’s awesome, man! Wait, so what’s warming up? Have you kissed?”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes, and she squealed again. 

“Touching?” She waggled her eyebrows, and he nodded again. “Without clothes?”

“With our mouths,” he confessed, blushing hard now. Hell, she was blushing, for that matter.

“Ah, okay, TMI and I didn’t mean to pry. I mean, I definitely did mean to pry, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“TMI?” Bucky looked confused.

“Too much information,” she clarified. “I mean, I’d love to swap tips sometime but I think you should let it settle first. But Buck, honestly, I’m so happy for you. Steve is great and you’re great, and you deserve someone great.”

“Shoulda got you a thesaurus for your birthday,” Bucky groused, but he was smiling. 

“Ooh, can we go play with knives after work tomorrow? I still wanna learn that flippy thing you do. Maybe I should practice with not-knives first,” she babbled, and they were both aware she was purposefully changing the subject.

“Yeah, it’s a date. I wanna see how you’re shooting, too, Barton’s been teaching you, right?”

She nodded. “I’m not a huge fan of guns. Big fan of watching _him _with guns, for some reason, but it makes him feel better that I’m capable of defending myself. First time he came over and saw my baseball bat security system I think he just laughed at me. And, I don’t know, it’s not like I could disarm someone if they came at me with a gun? And I’m not gonna go buy one for myself? But I guess it can’t hurt to know how to shoot, right?”

Bucky was quiet for a moment before he rose to his feet. He asked quietly, “So how do you deal with the gun stuff, with his job and our jobs, if you’re not a gun person? Steve’s kind of the same way, wants the non-lethal option whenever it’s possible. That’s not...I wasn’t trained that way.”

She got up and grabbed the spray to clean the mat while she pondered her response. “Honestly I think part of it is just...compartmentalizing? And part of it is being lucky enough, I guess, that I got to type up some of his mission reports so I know a couple of the details about, uh, the type of people he...targets. And I know he didn’t always work for the good guys, but I also know we don’t always have the luxury of choice.”

He hummed an acknowledgment, thoughtful. “And he’s obviously okay with you knowing his history, huh?”

“Yeah, Buck,” she said softly. “I try to be something nice for him to come to, because I see the toll his work can take, even if he’s doing something hard for the greater good. And I believe he’s a good man.”

Bucky just nodded again, and they walked slowly towards the door. As she flipped off the lights, she said, “You’re a good man, too, Bucky. We all know that here.”

Jane got back that weekend, with a digital pile of work for Darcy to sort through and file. She was rejuvenated from her time working with Erik, and Darcy thought again about how sorry she was that this was all about to end.

Clint’s return took another week and a half, although he was able to check in more often as his part of the op wrapped up. They had almost daily phone calls, early morning for her, late night for him, so she figured he was somewhere way west of her, but of course he couldn’t give anything away over the phone. He texted her on a Friday morning and said he’d be back that night, and asked if he could come to Queens instead of her meeting him at the Tower. She readily agreed, of course, and took off a couple hours early to clean the apartment, stock the fridge, and take care of the grooming she’d been ignoring while he was away. 

When he let himself in that night, using his shiny new key, he fell to his knees in front of the couch where she’d fallen asleep trying to wait up for him. Startled awake, she had the presence of mind to grope for her knife before remembering she’d actually hung her bag by the door in an effort to keep the place neat. So much for self-defense. 

“Clint, baby, you okay?” She reached out to cup his face in both her hands, scanning his eyes. They were clear, but with dark shadows underneath.

“Yeah, sweetheart, just missed you so much.” He was almost slurring, exhaustion catching up with him.

She noticed the helmet sitting by the door. “Did you ride your bike over here, silly? You should have taken a car.”

“Just wanted to get to you, Darce.”

Rising from the couch, she pulled him upright. “You hurt anywhere, you need a shower?”

Clint shook his head. “Went to medical, showered after my debrief.”

“Let’s get you to bed, then, babe.”

She stripped him of his clothes quickly and methodically, tipping him over onto the bed once he was down to boxers. A couple minutes later, after locking up and flipping off light switches and stopping in the bathroom, she climbed in next to him. She was surprised to see he was still awake, watching her through half-closed eyes, and he pulled her close to him once she’d slipped under the covers.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers as she rested her chin on his chest. 

“Want me to talk a little bit?”

Clint nodded, and Darcy drew a hand up to trace her fingers along his collarbone as she told him stories about her childhood, growing up outside of Pittsburgh, camping with her mom near Lake Erie, letting one topic trail into another. He caught her hand at one point and brought it up to his mouth to kiss her fingertips; she smiled and continued her soft murmuring until he was asleep, then wrapped her arm around his waist and allowed herself to drift off.

She was alarmed when she woke alone, until she rolled over to see his helmet still by the door. She stretched, sprawled, and fell back asleep until he came in with breakfast a little while later. He kicked off his boots by the door and brought his bounty over to the bed, setting the carrier of iced coffees on the comforter while he stripped back down to his boxers. He leaned back against the headboard while she forced herself upright, the strap of her pink plaid nightgown falling off her shoulder. 

They sat in bed drinking coffee and eating bear claws, heedless of the crumbs, the Neil Young radio station Clint had pulled up on his phone playing softly in the background. Once they were done, he collected the trash in the white paper bag, dropped it on the floor, then tugged at her ankles so she moved down the bed a little. He climbed over her, looming as he straddled her thighs, and began kissing her cheeks, her jaw, her neck.

“Thank you for last night,” he said, nuzzling behind her ear. She moved her fingers to rest against his chest, but he pulled her hands over her head, holding her wrists loosely with one hand. “Stay,” he warned softly.

She nodded, swallowing visibly.

“You were perfect last night, Darce.” He resumed his careful, soft ministrations. “Everything I’d been missing, just what I needed. My perfect, soft, sweet girl.”

Clint rose up slightly, shoving the hem of her gown up to pool around her hips. He shot her a questioning glance, his lust-blown eyes meeting her own, and she nodded again before he pulled the garment off entirely. She lay there, bare except for the arrow necklace nestled at her throat, and he let out a low growl as he took in the image. 

“You don’t have to be so careful with me all the time,” she said hoarsely. “I, um, I don’t always want it to be sweet.” Her cheeks flushed at the admission, but she forced herself not to look away, knowing he’d need to see the honestly in her eyes.

_Well, _that _particular bit of vulnerability was totally worth it_, she thought, when Clint promptly began to strip off his own clothes. He was thorough and methodical and unyielding as he took her apart until she was begging for release, and her pleas were a different kind of sweetness altogether. He kept her body pinned to the bed, even as she left her hands by the headboard in delicious compliance, and when he finally thrust into her, Darcy wailed in pleasure. By the time they were both sated, she felt brainless and boneless and more in love than ever.

They collapsed into sleep again, her back pressed against his chest, and finally rose to take a lazy shower shortly after noon. Much as she wanted to just tug him back into bed for another round, Darcy forced herself to get dressed while Clint showered, and they headed out to grab some food at a diner near the apartment. Fed and recaffeinated, they decided to enjoy the spring air and he drove them across Queens to Fort Totten Park. It was mostly an excuse to walk around hand-in-hand, a chance to forget about work and life and everything but one another. 

They made their way through the park slowly, but it still only took a couple hours, and he asked if she’d consider staying at the Tower that night. “I know weekends are for your place, but I’d like to hit the range for a little bit, and I probably need to buckle down on a workout that doesn’t involve you,” he said with a wink.

She readily agreed, as long as they could wait for her to wash her laundry so she could hang it to dry overnight. “Weekends don’t have to be at my place, for the record. I mean, I like my place and I like having you there, but considering how much time you spend away, I’m happy to stay at the Tower more often. I’ll still be out here when you’re gone, and when I have book club and stuff.”

“Maybe you could bring some stuff to keep at my place,” he suggested, not looking at her. “Make it easier for you.”

She tried to play it cool, truly, and almost succeeded in being incredibly casual as she said, “Yeah, good idea.” But she couldn’t bite back a grin, and when he finally glanced over he rolled his eyes even as he smiled at her.

“What?” he challenged, shaking his head.

“Are you giving me a drawer?” Her voice was teasing as she poked a gentle finger in his chest.

“And some closet space, if you want it,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

She stepped in close on her tiptoes, near enough to wrap her arms around his neck and plant a long kiss on his lips. “I want it,” she said, trying to convey exactly how pleased she was that they were making this step. “As long as you don’t think it’s too much too soon?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure, Darce,” he said smoothly, running a hand through her hair. She nodded, then bit her lip and dropped back down to her heels.

“I’m-- this makes me really happy, babe. You make me so happy.”

“Ditto, gorgeous. Wanna head back to your place and grab your stuff?”

“Yeah,” she sighed happily.

Clint decided to go for a run while she put her laundry in the wash, burning off some of his excess energy after a long, tough op -- despite their efforts that morning, he still needed to unwind mentally and physically. She packed some clothes and toiletries in her overnight bag, stuff she wouldn’t miss or that she knew her boyfriend would appreciate, a few basics for work that she could get away with wearing often. By the time he jogged back up the stairs and took a quick shower, her wet things were draped around the apartment, she’d watered the plants, and they were ready to head back to Manhattan.

She didn’t want to seem overeager to unpack, but she did at least get her nice clothes hanging up in the closet. Clint came up behind her and slung an arm across her chest, pulling her in to lean back against him. “Looks nice, our stuff together,” he said in a low voice, and she hummed in agreement.

“I know you have actual training to do, but can I watch you at the range for a little while?”

He shrugged an agreement, and on the way down to the archery range he told her about some of the arrowheads he and Tony had come up with together. “But today I just need to run some drills with the basics,” he said. When she asked why he had to practice if he never missed, only half teasing, he said it was more about keeping his muscles trained and his bow ready. His answer was a little short, though, and she decided not to press the issue. He raised his palm to the security reader, opening the door for her to go in ahead of him, and she sat on the lone stool in the corner to watch him work.

She’d put on workout gear as well, figuring she was overdue for some cardio herself, and after watching Clint shoot for a little while, she headed over to the treadmill. Half an hour later, she switched into cool-down mode, and when she went back to the range, he was still shooting, one arrow after another, and she thought she could see his arms shaking. She stood outside the door, looking in through the large window, unsure whether she should interrupt him. When his quiver was finally empty, she tapped lightly on the plexiglass, and he jogged over to let her in before recalling the target to pull his arrows free.

“Want to go do your report so you can put whatever happened behind you?” She kept her voice soft, hoping she was making the right play.

He huffed out a breath, the tension leaving his shoulders, and nodded. He wiped down his bow and arrows, packed everything up to leave the room neat, and allowed her to lead them back up to his apartment. She took a quick shower while he changed, wary about the rather sudden change in his attitude, then settled on the couch with his laptop open and resting on her crossed legs.

His report was concise and matter-of-fact, as usual, except when he stumbled over a response about witnesses. Apparently a child had stepped into the courtyard where his target was standing, at just the moment he loosed his arrow. The kid wasn’t hurt, not physically, but the little boy did see the lethal arrow hit its target. Someone had immediately scooped the crying child out of the room, amidst the chaos, but the damage was done. 

Darcy worked to keep her composure throughout the remainder of the report, as Clint explained that he’d hesitated for a second and if he’d taken the shot sooner, the child could have been spared the image. But the mission was considered a success, the man he’d taken out was truly vile -- he couldn’t or wouldn’t say more than that other children had suffered much worse at that man’s hands -- and perhaps the boy was young enough that someone could explain the whole thing away. Still, Clint hadn’t been able to retrieve the arrow, and he hadn’t wanted to leave a calling card.

After hitting save, she closed the laptop and clambered over to the other end of the couch to gather him into her arms. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” she murmured, pressing kisses to his temple. He let her hold him for a long while, sitting quietly while she stroked his hair, until she finally spoke again.

“So have you been working on compartmentalizing or something, then? I mean, when you got in last night I could tell you were exhausted, but the way you were acting today I wouldn’t have thought anything out of the ordinary happened while you were gone.”

Clint leaned his head back against the couch, but turned to face her. “Yeah. Yeah, uh, after I snapped at you that one time, I thought I better get a handle on keeping work stuff out of our relationship as much as possible. Doc Duong and I have been talking about it in my sessions.”

She let out a little _hm_ and reached up to touch his face, running her fingers lightly over his brow bone in hopes of smoothing the concerned wrinkle there. “Thank you for making that effort for me, babe. Even though I hate the thought of you letting something wear on you like that, honestly, I want to be there for the hard stuff, too.”

“We’ll find the balance,” he promised, drawing in a deep breath, “but it’s gotta go both ways. I feel like we never talk about you, like stuff with Jane and your job and everything, and that you felt like you couldn’t tell me about your birthday because it was supposedly less important than whatever I had going on. I’m pretty sure relationships aren’t supposed to work that way, Darce.”

“I-- yeah, okay, that’s fair,” she said, blinking slowly. “I haven’t really done this a lot? Um, and practically speaking, saving people’s lives is more important than my birthday, or, like, maybe having to job-hunt because Jane might go back to Virginia, or whatever.”

“Wait, what, really?” He sat up, forcing Darcy backwards. “Jane’s leaving?”

“Maybe?” She shrugged. “Now that she and Thor have come to terms on their relationship, or I guess lack thereof, I can’t imagine she’ll stick around much longer. The labs at Culver might not be quite as high-tech as Tony’s, but she’d be back with Erik and everything.”

“And you-- you wouldn’t follow?” He sounded uncertain.

“I have been getting the sense for a while that my skills are no longer the best match for working with Jane. I mean, she’s great, she’s just kind of surpassed what I can do to be helpful for her. She’d be better off with a Culver student who actually knows something about astrophysics.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying something about that before.”

“Also, there’s the small matter that my boyfriend is here,” she glanced up with a small smile. “I don’t know, I was thinking I’d try to get a PA job or something, that’s gotta be easy to find in New York, right?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, or maybe Hill can find you something else at SHIELD if you want.” Clint pulled her back into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Glad you’re not bailing on me.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” she said as she reached over to grab the remote and flick on the tv.

“So much for talking more,” he teased, settling back so she could rest against his chest.

Darcy stilled, then leaned her head back to look at him. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, baby, honestly, but, I don’t know, the work you do kind of puts my life into perspective. It’s hard to complain about scrounging up quarters for laundry or maybe possibly having to find a new job someday when I get to have this with you.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Just-- it’s not a competition. I guess I just want to make sure you know I’m here when you need me.”

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, then settled back down against him. “I know.”


	9. Chapter 9

They’d decided on a late May visit to Pennsylvania, Memorial Day weekend so Darcy wouldn’t have to take two vacation days. Clint put in for a few days leave, knowing that he could still be called back in case of emergency. He promised to check in daily, with the understanding that he couldn’t get back to New York immediately. Darcy asked Jane for the Friday off too, so they could have a couple nights in the B&B before continuing on to the small town north of Pittsburgh where her mom lived.

He warned her she’d have to pack relatively light, but he ended up letting her use both of the saddlebags. She still had to cut way down compared to what she’d normally take, but she decided it was kind of freeing to travel with so little, even if she also ended up slinging a backpack over her shoulders before they drove off.

Clint had commandeered the small luggage rack behind the back rest, strapping down a beat-up duffle bag. He also produced a pair of leather gloves for her to wear, explaining this was a little different than their slower-paced joyride a couple months ago. “Safety first,” she chirped, pulling the gloves on. She could see him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, at the picture she made, jeans and boots and leather; she’d even tucked her knife into her boot, just for fun, and she had a feeling that they’d both be wound up at the end of the five-plus hours of riding to State College

He weaved expertly through the city traffic, showing off a little, until they got out to the interstate, where he set a nice pace. They broke for lunch shortly after noon; neither of them were particularly hungry, but they couldn’t resist stopping in a town called Bartonsville. It had the added benefit of allowing them to turn off to a more scenic southerly route, through small towns and alongside rivers. The added distance meant they didn’t get to State College until nearly dinner time, but their only plans were to enjoy each other’s company, so she counted it as a win.

They took quick showers to wash off the grime of travel, then tumbled into bed to work off their pent-up energy and lust. By the time she rolled off Clint, panting, they needed to clean up again. He dragged her into the luxe bathroom, eyeing the large tub, but she insisted on food first, so they washed up and wandered hand-in-hand through the downtown area. School had let out a couple weeks’ prior, so things were relatively quiet considering it was a college town. He let Darcy lead them to a little bistro with outdoor seating, where they took their time over dinner, laughing and talking and flirting. She was wearing a strappy sundress, and as the sun went down he moved his chair over to her side of the table to put his arm around her and ward off the shivers she tried to hide. 

She glanced up in surprise when he moved, as it meant his back was no longer to the wall. She knew how much better he felt when he could see any potential threats coming. When she asked him about it, he just said, “We’re on vacation,” before dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder, setting off an entirely different kind of shiver. 

They had an easy couple days: leisurely breakfasts with the other couple staying at the B&B, a visit to the Arboretum, poking around shops and boutiques, but always with one ear tuned to Clint’s cell phone in case the world needed saving. He took a long run on Sunday morning; by the time he got back, she was sitting in the living room downstairs with a cup of coffee, chatting with Bonnie and June, the women they’d had breakfast with the day before. The women were staying one more night before heading back to their home in Buffalo, and although they were probably old enough to be her grandparents, she’d made fast friends with the couple. They offered to wait on Clint so they could all eat together again, so he hustled off for a quick shower and came back down with wet hair. He dropped into the chair next to Darcy, resting his hand on the back of her neck where she had pulled up her hair, and she smiled up at him. 

June leaned in conspiratorially to ask how long they’d been together, saying she and Bonnie had made a wager. Bonnie thought they must be well-established because of how they moved around one another, but June thought they were still in the honeymoon stage because Darcy’s face lit up whenever she looked at him. Darcy blushed at that, and he squeezed her neck lightly and said they’d known each other for a while but had only been dating since January. 

“Don’t let this one go,” Bonnie said to him with a stern look. “You shoulda heard her talking about you this morning. Like you hung the moon.”

“Oh yeah?” He flashed a devilish grin at Darcy, who was groaning into her hands.

“He’ll be insufferable now,” she told the other women, but she reached over to squeeze his thigh. “But he already knows I’m crazy about him, so I guess it’s fine.”

He scooped up her hand to press a quick kiss to her knuckles, and June sighed a little. When they parted ways so Clint and Darcy could get their stuff together and check out, both women drew her into a hug. “I think he’s a keeper, too,” June said, and Darcy couldn’t help but agree. Back in the room, she couldn’t resist pulling him in for a long embrace, reveling in the warmth and solidity of his chest and arms. 

“Well, you’ve clearly practiced charming older ladies,” she said, “so my mom ought to be a piece of cake.” 

He laughed but shook his head. “First off, I bet your mom wouldn’t appreciate being called an ‘older lady,’ and second of all, you forget she’s not much older than me. Those ladies had at least a few decades on me, and that’s a whole different ballgame than my girlfriend’s mom.”

“You’re gonna be great,” she assured him softly. “You _are_ great.”

They got back on the road, headed north, back towards the interstate; the timing was about the same no matter which way they headed to Butler, but he could drive faster on the highway, and she was happy to oblige his need for speed. Less than three hours later, they pulled up at the small bungalow where she grew up. Her mom was waiting on the porch swing, and she leapt up to pull Darcy into a long hug as soon as she and Clint climbed off the bike.

When the women finally broke apart, Clint stepped forward almost shyly.

“Momma, this is Clint Barton. Clint, my mom, Emma Lewis.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Lewis,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Emma, please,” she said, “especially since Darcy tells me we’re almost the same age.”

Clint and Darcy both blushed at that, but she was determined not to make a big deal out of it. Clint, however, looked Emma right in the eye and said, “I know what it must look like, and I know you don’t know me, but I swear I’m not trying to take advantage of your daughter.”

Whatever she saw in the man’s eyes was enough for her to gesture them both inside. He stepped away to call his boss and check in, giving the women a few minutes to themselves, which Darcy used to immediately berate her mother for putting him on the spot. Emma protested that if he had nothing to hide, he shouldn’t mind, but Darcy was visibly irritated. She tried to calm down, and mostly succeeded by the time Clint came back in to the living room and sat down on the couch next to her.

“So,” Emma started, “how’d you two meet?”

Darcy shot daggers at her mom, but Clint answered smoothly, “Initially it was in New Mexico a couple years ago, when Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig were researching some anomalies. I was part of the security detail for the site.”

“But we didn’t really officially meet until I started working in New York,” she said, “and even then I don’t think he even knew I was alive until January.”

“I mean, I did, I knew you worked with Jane,” he said offhandedly as he turned to glance at her.

“Clint and Thor work together sometimes,” Darcy explained to her mom, who was looking a little relieved that they had some non-romantic history. “And he got injured at work so he was around the-- the office more,” she stumbled.

“And Darcy helped me out of a jam with a coffee maker, and it turns out she’s way better than me at filling out paperwork, and uh, it didn’t take long to see that she was pretty special.”

Emma looked sharply at him again. “And what are your intentions towards my daughter?”

“Oh my god, I don’t know which part of this is more embarrassing,” Darcy groaned, dropping her reddened face into her hands. 

“I’m sure his parents will make things equally awkward,” Emma said.

“Momma, I can promise you they won’t.”

“My, uh, my parents died when I was six,” he explained, waving off Emma’s stricken look. “Please, you didn’t know, it’s fine.”

“Well then, on that note, who needs a drink?” Emma stood up to go to the kitchen, and laughed when both Clint and Darcy threw a hand in the air. “Hey, it can only go uphill from here.”

She came back a minute later with three beers; he looked at the label appreciatively, and Emma shrugged. “I wanted you to be comfortable here, despite what you may think from that conversation.”

“Thanks, Emma,” he said simply.

Things settled down after that, although a residual awkwardness lingered whenever anyone seemed to realize that Darcy’s boyfriend and her mom were basically the same age and shared all the same cultural touchstones. Sure, it made it easier to keep the conversation alive, but for Darcy to be the odd man out was uncomfortable. Clint’s phone buzzed occasionally throughout the afternoon; he ignored it until he couldn’t any longer, finally grimacing and saying he had to take the call. 

The women spent the next half hour catching up on more personal things, Darcy having forgiven her mom for the inquisition when they arrived. Emma was asking about her student loans, which she still hadn’t bit the bullet on paying off, when Clint came back inside from the back porch.

“Everything okay?” Darcy could read the tension in his shoulders.

“Gonna have to detour through Pittsburgh,” he said. “Boss asked me to check on one of his projects. I, uh-- it’s gotta be right away, actually.”

She scrambled off the sofa. “Let me grab my stuff.”

“You can stay, Darce. I can come back this way, it’s only an hour.”

Emma looked concerned. “Darcy, kiddo, maybe you should stay here. I know you were planning on heading back tonight but I get the sense Clint’s job is more than just ‘security.’” She gestured with air quotes, eyeing her daughter suspiciously.

“Huh,” he grunted, surprised. “I see where she gets it.”

“No, it’s fine, we knew it would be a quick visit. I just-- I just wanted you two to meet.” Darcy glanced between her mom and her boyfriend, who seemed to realize she wouldn’t be deterred. Emma pulled her into a hug, then, surprisingly, embraced Clint as well.

“Take care of her,” she said sternly.

“Yes, ma-- Emma,” he corrected with a smile.

“Love you, Momma.” Darcy was already climbing on the bike behind Clint.

“You too, kiddo.”

The thirty-odd miles to Pittsburgh proper flew by, and as afternoon turned to evening, Darcy found herself clinging to Clint’s waist as they drove up across a bridge to what looked like an island of warehouses and factories. He parked the bike in the shadows of a building on the edge of the land, where it wouldn’t be visible to anyone passing by.

“Waste of real estate,” she muttered, considering the location as she pulled her helmet off. “I thought places like this were open round-the-clock, but this place is deserted.”

“Not sure whether it’s a good thing at this point. Listen, Darce, I think you should wait here.” He held up a hand to ward off her protests. He was rifling through the underseat storage, pulling out a small black case, assembling a handgun as he spoke. “I have to get a -- there’s a piece of tech we need, and SHIELD’s traced it here, apparently the exchange just popped up because the seller was being cautious. We’ve got backup on the way, but if I can just get in and out we can be out of here before anyone notices.”

“There is _no way_ you are leaving me out here,” she hissed.

“I’ll give you my extra gun,” he pleaded, inserting a communications device in his ear and holding up a finger. He checked in with whoever was on the other end, and she saw a small smile cross his face before he gave Natasha a sitrep.

“Okay, A, the fact that you have an _extra_ gun is, like, beyond, Clint. And B, give me the extra gun and let me come inside with you because there’s no way I can use a gun in self-defense out here and not just draw more attention to myself. If you tell me what we’re looking for I can _help_.”

“At some point we are going to talk about why you think I wouldn’t carry multiple weapons, considering you know what I do for a living,” he said, rolling his eyes even as he pulled a second black case out of the luggage strapped to the backrest. He loaded an even smaller gun, laughably tiny in his strong hands, and checked the safety before handing it over to Darcy. “Do you still have your knife on you?”

She nodded, patting her calf where the blade was stowed in a holster inside her boot.

“Six bullets, Darce, and you won’t need them unless this goes really sideways. You are going to stay behind me at all times unless I tell you otherwise, you’re going to obey every command I give you, you’re not going to do anything stupid.”

“What are we looking for in there?”

“_We_ aren’t looking for anything,” he emphasized. “I’m looking for a silver box about the size of a deck of cards, probably in a briefcase. Intel said the buyer’s staying here, so we just needed the meet to take place, and now we need to get the tech.”

“Okay,” she said simply. “Let’s do this.”

“Darcy.” He drew in a sharp breath. “I know I don’t have to say it, but this isn’t a game, it’s not a movie, and the only reason I’m taking you inside that warehouse is that I don’t believe for a second that you’ll stay out here. Please, please, be careful.”

She met his gaze straight-on and nodded shortly, and Clint turned to lead the way down the block to the warehouse they needed to infiltrate. She followed as they silently jogged from building to building, grateful for all the cardio she’d done over the past few months, and pulled up to a stop when he raised a fist by his ear. “Stay behind me,” he reminded her, and when she nodded, he slipped in through a metal door that had been propped open with a rock. After a moment, he waved her inside.

They paused for another moment in the darkness of the building, letting their eyes adjust. They were standing at the end of a hallway, a series of rooms lining either side, doorways open. He pulled her into the corner, then ducked his head into the first open doorway to the left. He signaled to her to move forward, and she darted in front of him, chest pounding. The space was mostly bare, just some empty metal shelving units stacked around the perimeter.

“Stay here,” he whispered, pleading, but she just glared at him. He shook his head, then tilted his head towards the next room. They jogged silently, a dozen steps, and he swept the room again before nodding Darcy inside. There were only two more rooms on this side of the hallway, and he turned to her again.

“Sweetheart, this room is safe, I need you to stay here. Please.”

She glanced around, noting the boxes stacked on the shelves. Clint had a point, she knew, there were places for her to hide here, and he was a professional superhero but she was a freaking personal assistant.

“Fine,” she sighed. 

“Thank you,” he breathed out, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Just keep quiet and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Darcy nodded, slipping around to stand behind some shelves so she wouldn’t be exposed immediately should anyone walk into the room. Clint was already darting across the hall to the end room, casing the environment to find both his target and anyone who might be in his way. She peeked her head around, then decided to move to the corner, where she’d be even more hidden thanks to the tall stack of wooden pallets resting by the door. There would just be room for her to slip between the pallets and the wall, if she needed a quick exit.

She tilted her head when she heard a sudden yelp; that was almost definitely Clint, which meant things had almost definitely gone sideways. She slunk back for a minute, breathing heavily, then pulled the knife from her boot. It would be quieter than the gun she’d already tucked away, wouldn’t give away her location if she used it right, and she forced herself to think about all the things Bucky and Nat had trained her on.

And suddenly, there was a man standing in the doorway, gun held at the ready. He moved into the room, turned to the right, took a few sure steps towards her hiding spot to glance down the aisles of shelving. She moved as if on instinct, slipping behind him to jab her knife in his torso, upwards, through the ribs; it took less force than she’d anticipated, even through the man’s jacket. He let out a muffled groan, his gun clattering to the concrete floor as he dropped to his knees. The man turned halfway towards her, and she pulled the knife out and stepped behind the crates in one smooth moment. His eyes were already closed by the time his face hit the floor, and she wiped the blade on her shirt as she moved forward to check his pulse; still there, which was a relief even as she worried about her next move. She drew in a shuddery breath, nudging his jacket up to make sure he had no other weapons and wishing she had some way to restrain him.

Darcy settled for scooping his gun off the floor and making sure the safety was on before tucking the weapon into the back waistband of her jeans alongside the small pistol Clint had given her. She kept her knife in front of her, until her mind flitted to thoughts of horror movie scream queens trying to protect themselves with a blade instead of a gun. She holstered her knife then, and considered her options. The new gun was heavier than she was used to, and she remembered Clint saying you have to compensate for that kind of thing. There was no room for error here, so she pulled her little pistol out and gripped it in both hands before going to find her boyfriend.

She ran across the hall to the first room she’d seen him enter; it was empty. She grimaced, steeled herself, and darted up to the next room, then the next, what looked like a computer lab, until she finally heard voices at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she crept slowly to the edge of the open doorway and peered around the corner. There was a body lying facedown on the floor, heaps of pallets and what looked like manufacturing equipment crowding the space, and a man standing in the middle of the room, calling out taunts as he spun slowly in a circle. He was saying something about how he knew Clint wasn’t alone and they could work something out if only his partner would reveal himself. Clint spun along with him, held in place by the gun pointed at his head, his arms wrenched behind his back, wincing as he pivoted. Any shot she took would put Clint at risk too, since the man was using him as a human shield -- even with his back turned, she thought, the bullet might go clean through and hit Clint. That happened, right? It did in the movies, anyway, and she wasn’t about to risk it.

She waited until the man’s back was turned before stepping into place behind a tall stack of pallets, willing Clint to look her way before he, too, was rotated around to face the other wall. She couldn’t figure out why the bad guy was turning around at all, until she glanced across the way and saw that there was a second doorway connecting their space to the next room. One more slow spin, and finally Clint looked up. Years of training had clearly paid off, as his only response to seeing her was a barely perceptible widening of the eyes.

Darcy expected her hands to shake as she took aim, but she was determined not to panic--at least not until after she’d taken out the man who currently had a gun pressed to her boyfriend’s temple. She took two deep breaths, waited for them to turn again so she was shooting the man in the back, then shouted, “Now!”

Clint dropped to his knees, twisting out of his captor’s grasp, and she let her training kick into gear as she steadied her arm and fired. The baddie jerked forward, reeling from the shot to his shoulder, and Clint dove for the gun as the man dropped it. He brought the butt of the gun down on the man’s head, knocking him unconscious with the force of the impact.

Her chest heaved as she gulped in air, willing herself to keep calm a little longer now that her partner was safe, and she reached down to scoop Clint up under his armpit and sling his arm over her shoulders. When they made it to the pallets stacked on the edge of the room, a little less out in the open, she eased him down to sit before she clicked the safety back on and tucked the gun into her waistband at the small of her back.

“Darce,” Clint said hoarsely. “I--.”

“Later,” she interrupted. “Where are you hurt?”

She stood between his thighs, scanning him quickly, cataloging the blood seeping through his shirt at his bicep, the scrapes along his jaw and knuckles, his shallow movements as if every breath was an effort.

“Nothing serious,” he responded, but his eyes drifted shut and he winced when she brought a hand up to cup his cheek. “Think my ankle’s fucked.”

“Baby,” she said plaintively, pulling her hand away. Before she could back up, though, Clint’s own hands shot out to grasp her hips and hold her there in front of him.

“Just. Give me a minute, don’t go anywhere yet, Darce.” 

She watched the pain flicker across his face for a moment, sensed it was more than physical, and began murmuring soft reassurances: “We’re okay, Clint, we’re safe, we’re good, it’s okay, baby.” She kept up the stream until he opened his eyes a minute later, and she couldn’t help a sigh of relief to see that they were clear and focused.

“Can you walk, babe? How do we get out of here?”

He pressed a finger to the comms unit. “We’re clear, Tasha, get us home.” He listened for a minute, confirmed the pickup location, and switched the comms off.

“Just gotta get to the west entrance, car will be here in five.” Clint grimaced as he stood up, and she immediately wedged herself under his arm again to support his weak ankle, and they hobbled across the room. He paused in front of the man they had taken out, leaned over to grab a cell phone from his jacket pocket, and told her they had to make a detour on the way out.

“There was another man in the room I was in, he’s, uh, he’s not dead but I took his gun,” she warned him. Clint nodded and said he’d take care of it if necessary.

Darcy let him lead her back to the computer room, and saw one monitor showing surveillance of the different rooms in the warehouse. She knew Clint was in bad shape when he stopped to lean against the desk and directed her on which laptops to grab. She snapped the lids closed and slung the machines into a duffle bag sitting on the floor before making her way back over to him. He nodded towards a briefcase at the end of the table, and she scooped it up as well, shoving it in the duffle and not bothering with the zipper. Bag on one shoulder, boyfriend on the other, she took another deep breath before they made their way to the exit Nat had specified.

She squinted in the bright street light for a moment before she saw that the black SUV was already waiting by the door. Nat bounded up to help Clint into the backseat, and Darcy shot the other woman a grateful glance. Sam took the bag from her shoulder, dropped it in the trunk, and closed the hatch.

“Up front with me,” he directed Darcy. “Nat’s gotta debrief.”

She nodded, forcing herself to stay calm just a little longer. Clint didn’t need to worry about her on top of the mission, even if it was technically a success.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

She nodded again, then affirmed it aloud in case Clint needed to hear it. She refused to turn around, refused to make this about her, and Nat jumped on the opportunity to question Clint. They’d hacked into the video feed as they’d raced to the warehouse, but had no audio, and he was quietly filling her in on what had happened. 

They were back at the safe house within minutes, and a Quinjet was on the way to take them to HQ, so she barely had time to breathe before they were back at SHIELD. Clint and Natasha were still rehashing the op, the players, the outcome. Sam had quietly checked in a couple more times, but Darcy just kept offering him vague smiles, telling him she knew they had work to do and she didn’t want to get in the way.

The platitudes may have started off false, but by the time they landed Darcy thought her fake-it-til-you-make-it strategy might have actually worked on her own mental state. She couldn’t regret acting to save Clint’s life, no matter the cost. She hadn’t exactly been trained in self-defense for situations just like this, where she might be caught in the middle of Something Big Going Down, but she’d kept her cool. She wouldn’t have chosen to injure or kill anyone, god forbid, but there was a bigger picture at play, and the work Clint and Nat and Sam and everyone did was more important than the life of some bad guys. If they could kill in the line of duty and still be good people, so could she, and technically she’d only injured the men. And, okay, sure, Clint probably would have disarmed the guy on his own had he known Darcy was safe, but why take that chance?

The jet pulled into the hangar and a couple medics swarmed out to meet them, but since Sam had taped Clint’s ankle on the flight, the agents waved them away in favor of getting up to headquarters. One medic made a beeline for her, face aghast at the red stains on Darcy’s shirt, but stood down at Nat’s gesture and quiet explanation, “It’s not her blood.”

She pulled her jacket tighter around her as the elevator shot up, and when Clint finally nudged her with an elbow, she was able to meet his gaze calmly. He wrinkled his brow slightly, she shrugged a shoulder up, and the elevator doors slid open on one of the common floors where the rest of the local team had gathered to greet them. Someone handed her a clean shirt, and ushered her into the bathroom to change before the debrief.

Darcy tuned out the chatter as the agents made their way into a conference room, barely noticed Sam pushing her gently into a chair with a warm hand on her shoulder, offered only a muttered thanks when a coffee and water appeared in front of her, but when Tony flicked his fingers to bring up the video feeds from the warehouse, pulled from one of the laptops they’d snagged on the way out, Darcy straightened up in her seat automatically. She wasn’t sure she was ready to relive this, especially with an audience.

The split screens showed eight different rooms and the hallway connecting them, and she forced herself to remain detached as she watched the situation unfold. There was Clint, taking out two bad guys; in another room, she cowered in the corner. She felt a hot rush of shame seeing herself on screen, even knowing how quickly she had snapped into action after that first wave of fear. Clint again, moving swiftly down the hallway, ducking into the next large room and scaling the equipment to get a better vantage. Clint, leaping down from a perch, landing on his ankle wrong; Darcy, flinching as she remembered the yelp that brought a handful of bad guys running down the hall. Two darted into the room where Clint had just given himself away, and one more was making his way to Darcy’s end of the hall.

The agents scrutinized the video, Darcy sitting amongst them, trying to keep her face impassive as she watched herself slide a knife into the torso of the baddie who came through the door. She heard Clint suck in a breath at that, and she resolutely avoided looking at him as the video played on. Her on-screen counterpart yanked the blade out, wiped her hand and the knife on her shirt, and sunk back into the shadows for a moment.

Video Clint had taken down one man, but the other was wrestling him to the ground. Down the hall, Video Darcy crouched down for a minute by the body, her fingers on the man’s neck, hand ghosting over his body for weapons before she popped up and brandished her knife in front of her. She watched herself grab the fallen gun and swap out her weapons, watched herself creep down the hall, pausing just outside the room where she’d last seen Clint, glancing into each room until she found him.

The bad guy had dragged Clint into standing position, and was spinning slowly around. She saw Clint spot her, saw the slight change to his expression, and she gave him a short nod as the bad guy continue his slow twirl. 

Video Darcy raised her gun and opened her mouth, Video Clint dropped to his knees, Video Bad Guy staggered back. Video Clint grabbed the loose gun and swung it downwards, rendering Video Bad Guy immobile.

Present Darcy finally dropped her eyes to the table, wincing as she heard Bucky’s, “_Jesus, _Darcy.” If the Winter Soldier was appalled by her actions, there was little hope the rest of the team would approve of what she’d done. She nearly shoved her chair back, ready to make a run for it, before she heard him continue. “That was badass.”

She sat back with a small huff, her glance darting up to Bucky, who was looking at her with open admiration, but obvious concern. She chanced a look around the table, only to see that the agents in the room were all regarding her with a respect she was unused to. She was an errand girl, Jane’s right hand, Clint’s new girlfriend, hardly worth a second thought until now. Sure, some of it was mixed with wariness, but she’d take what she could get.

The debriefing went on a few minutes longer, and she tried not to feel like the walls were closing in on her. She just wanted to be alone with Clint, to check that he was actually alive and unhurt and breathing and hers. Sure, a shower would be great, and some food wouldn’t go amiss, but the restless energy zinging through her would only be settled by feeling his skin against her own.

He must have sensed her tension, must have felt the same, because as soon as Director Fury dismissed them, Clint grabbed her arm and pulled her from the room, apologizing brusquely to their colleagues as he ignored their attempts at conversation. “Your place or mine?” he asked, and she couldn’t stifle the laugh that burbled up from her chest. The question felt ridiculous and out of place in light of what they’d just gone through.

“I’d say mine, because I want to be away from here, but look what happened last time we tried to take a break from SHIELD.”

“Yours is better. My bike’s -- my bike’s in Pittsburgh, I guess,” he acknowledged with a dip of his head, “so we’ll need to take a car.”

At her concerned look, he said Nat would have already gotten one of their locals to retrieve it, so the op couldn’t be traced back to SHIELD.

He called down to the motor pool as they waited for the elevator, and by the time they hit the ground floor, a sedan was waiting to take them to her place in the city. She was weirdly relieved to see Britt behind the wheel, thinking how nice it was to see a familiar face.

She sat apart from Clint on the short ride; other than their brisk exit from the conference room, they hadn’t touched since Natasha and Sam pulled up, and she was afraid that she’d break down as soon as she got close to him. Which would be acceptable in the confines of her apartment, she thought, but she didn’t want Britt to see her as anything but coolly competent. She was buzzing again by the time they reached the door of her third-floor walkup, apologizing for not thinking about his ankle as they climbed the stairs, hands shaking as she tried to get the key in the door. Finally, he closed his hand around hers, slid the key into the lock, and pushed her inside in front of him. 

Before she even dropped the keys in the basket on the entry table, his arms were around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the warmth of his neck, holding on for all she was worth. She let out a shuddering breath when she felt him kiss her temple, her cheek, her jaw, and she nuzzled in closer for a moment before pulling away long enough to press a kiss of her own to his lips.

“Are you okay?” His words were muffled against her mouth, and she hummed in response, sliding her hands under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin. She opened her eyes to find him watching her carefully, and finally shot him a small half-smile.

“Just don’t seem to be able to let you go,” she said softly. “But at least let’s get your ankle up, come sit down.”

“Shower first,” he countered, and she let him tug her to the bathroom. He turned the water on while she grabbed clean towels, and they stripped quickly. Darcy was grateful for the clean shirt she’d gotten at SHIELD. She hadn’t even bothered with saving the other one, knowing she’d never be able to think of it as clean even if the stains came out -- she’d dropped it in the small trash can at HQ. She would have lingered under the hot water forever, grateful for Clint’s solid presence at her back, but between his ankle and their general exhaustion, they settled for a brisk scrubdown. They dried off and put on clean clothes, both of them glad that she’d made room for Clint’s stuff in one of her drawers.

He walked backwards to the sofa, pulling her along, and fell back against the cushions with a sigh. She shoved the ottoman in front of him, groaning as she lifted his injured ankle onto the battered leather fabric. He reached out for her hand, but she darted away before she could get distracted.

“Ice first,” she said, walking over to the small kitchen, “and something to eat so your body has fuel to heal.” She brought back an ice pack wrapped up in a Hawaiian-print dish towel; her cheeks started burning as she felt his gaze on her, watching her mother him.

“You don’t gotta take care of me, Darce,” he said softly. “Not any more than you already have.”

“It makes me feel better,” she admitted with another small smile. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

She rummaged in the fridge for sandwich fixings, slapping some ham and cheese on bread slathered with spicy mustard, two for Clint and one for her. There was a bowl of apples on the counter, and she brought a couple over with a knife. She debated between beer and water -- they’d certainly earned the former, but probably needed the latter more, so she filled a couple glasses and finally settled in next to him on the sofa. Darcy tucked her knees under her, leaning into his shoulder slightly as they inhaled their simple sandwiches, then shifted to rest her head on his thigh while he peeled the first apple.

He worked quickly and methodically, peeling in one long, spiraling strip, before slicing off a bite to pop into her mouth. She heard him crunch through his own bite before he asked again if she was okay.

“I think so,” she said, eyes closed. “I mean, I wouldn’t have chosen that ending to our first weekend away together, but, um, I’m glad -- I’m glad of the outcome.” She nudged her head into his hip, and he slipped another piece of fruit between her lips.

He tossed the knife and second apple onto the table beside the couch and shifted so he could slouch back against the cushions without upending her. As soon as they settled, though, she could feel the tension in his frame, the stiffness in the way he held himself. She turned her head to look up at him, unnerved by his sudden quiet.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asked softly. He shrugged, and she reached a hand up to grasp his arm and bring it down across her body. They sat in silence for some time before she got up and dragged him to bed. If she’d known what the morning would bring, she probably would have stayed on the couch a little longer.


	10. Chapter 10

Darcy woke alone, sunlight pouring in through the windows. She immediately tried to reassure herself that this had happened before, Clint going out to bring back breakfast, but after the weird tension the night before she felt uneasy. When she dragged herself out of bed a few minutes later, a note on the counter confirmed her suspicions. 

She unfolded the sheet of white paper and collapsed on the couch as she read his scrawl.

_Darcy -- _

_It’s been fun but I think it’s for the best if we don’t see each other again. Sorry for the stuff this weekend. Take care._

-_cb_

Looking back, she’d be pleased that her first reaction was anger instead of heartache. _What the actual fuck,_ she thought, scanning the page again for some clue that he didn’t actually mean what he wrote. When she realized how little there was to be gleaned from a three-sentence Dear John letter, though, she picked up her phone to text him a series of question marks.

While she waited for a response, she took stock of her apartment. Everything that belonged to Clint had been cleared out -- his drawer was empty, toothbrush gone, book beside the bed disappeared. She must have really been out of it, for him to eliminate every trace he’d ever stayed there; at least, everything but his scent on the pillow, which was annoyingly cliched. She felt like she should be more upset about the situation, only she couldn’t seem to process it on top of the whole disaster of a weekend. She moved robotically through her morning routine -- shower, coffee, toast -- despite it being almost noon. Having a Monday off was weird enough, and even though she knew she should take care of Sunday’s chores, namely laundry, she couldn’t bring herself to wash away the only bit of him left in the apartment.

Instead, the afternoon and evening slipped past in a haze as she wallowed. She splurged on Chinese delivery because the fridge was empty, pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped herself up on the couch, and waited for Clint to respond to her text message and tell her what had gone wrong. It was just so sudden, was the thing, and she filtered through the potential reasons as she picked at the lo mein noodles. 

It really came down to two options, as far as she could see. She’d thought they’d worked out the age difference thing, but maybe meeting her mother had been too harsh a reminder that he was a lot older. But she felt like they’d gotten her mom’s blessing when they drove off the day before.

The other one, more likely the more she thought about it, was that she’d dismantled the whole easy, affectionate persona he had appreciated so much. The whole refusing-to-stay-outside-during-the-op thing had probably been aggravating, if it meant he was worried about her on top of trying to handle a last-minute mission. _I mean, I did kind of save the day_, Darcy thought, _but I wonder if he’d have handled things the same if I’d just stayed outside?_ But more than that, she’d literally gotten her hands dirty, she’d stabbed someone and shot someone and come away covered in blood. If her whole appeal was that she was somehow removed from his work, other than the typing of reports, it made sense that he would ditch her once he realized she wasn’t actually this soft and sweet thing meant to make his life easier. 

She couldn’t help dwelling on it, how unfair it was that she’d been dragged into this -- okay, forced him to let her come along -- and she’d freaking shot someone for him and he’d decided, “No, never mind, I want my soft girl back.” But who could blame him, right? It felt kind of supremely shitty when she really thought about it, but at the same time, he’d never been unclear about his affections for his sweet girl. And really, if he wanted someone tough and badass he’d be with Natasha anyway, or still with Bobbi. It was stupid to think that he’d stay after she went against the grain of everything he’d said he liked about her. 

Before she knew it, she was swiping angry tears away from her cheeks, curled up in a ball on her side lamenting the fact that she’d thrown away the best relationship she’d ever had because she wouldn’t listen when he asked her to stay outside. He still hadn’t responded to her single text, and she resolved to go find him at the Tower the next day and apologize. Some small voice in the back of her brain told her that this was all unreasonable -- his behavior, her insistence on taking the blame, her willingness to prostrate herself and beg him to take her back. But everything that had happened over the past 24 hours -- _god, was it just 24 hours? _\-- it was all she could think to do to move forward. She dragged herself off the couch, cleared away the delivery containers, and forced herself into the shower before succumbing to an early, restless sleep.

The next morning, Darcy woke early and irritated, and she decided to head on into Manhattan, even though she wasn’t due at work for another two hours. She stopped for coffee on her way into the Tower, thinking that no matter how pathetic she was, she wouldn’t go up to the common floor without talking to Clint first. It was early enough in the day that she had the elevator to herself, and when the doors closed, JARVIS quietly announced that there was a package waiting for her in the lab from Agent Barton. Her heart pounded as the car raced up through the floors, and she swiped into the lab with shaky hands.

Her apartment key was sitting atop a couple cardboard boxes; she lifted the lids to find all her stuff, everything she’d left in Clint’s apartment, neatly folded and tucked away. She couldn’t stop the tears welling up in her eyes, blurring the note he’d left on top: 

_Britt is on call to drive you home tonight so you don’t have to carry this on the subway._

She sank down into her chair, looking blankly at the wall. Was he seriously ending their whole relationship via notes? She only realized she was crying when JARVIS piped up to ask if she was okay, before warning her that one of the lab techs had swiped in downstairs and would be up shortly.

“Thanks, J,” she murmured, wiping her eyes and shoving the boxes under her desk. She booted up her computer and hurried down to the restroom to clean up before anyone could see that she’d been upset. 

When she came back into the lab, Lakeisha was already there setting up her own workstation. The women exchanged small talk for a minute before the tech got distracted by something on her computer screen, and Darcy was grateful that Jane hired such single-minded scientists to support her research. It definitely made it easier to avoid tough conversations.

It was business as usual all morning, except for the fact that whenever she tried to stretch her legs out in front of her, they collided with the cardboard boxes she’d stowed at her feet. She wasn’t particularly hungry, amidst all the emotional turmoil, but when Bucky texted her mid-morning she agreed to meet him for lunch. They rode down the elevator in silence, Bucky quickly realizing that something was up and that she didn’t want to talk about it in the Tower. She followed him down the street to a pizza place, and once he’d ordered a large pie and a couple sodas, he nudged her foot under the table.

“How ya holding up, doll?”

Darcy just shrugged, unsure if he knew Clint had ended things. 

“Bad luck Barton got sent out again right away,” Bucky commiserated.

“What, wait?” 

“He didn’t tell you?” Bucky grimaced. “I ran into him last night, he said he’d be gone a while. Maybe he left you a note at his place?”

She laughed woodenly. “He left me a note, alright, but it wasn’t about an op.”

Bucky eyed her over the table.

“We, uh...we ended it. He did. Left me a note and cleared his stuff out.” She shrugged, trying to keep her cool, but when Bucky got up and slid into the booth next to her she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“My offer to beat him up still stands, Darce. Jeez, what a jerk! Sorry. But I mean, seriously?”

He held her until she got her breathing steady, shooting the waitress a grateful glance when she dropped off their food without a word and scurried away. 

“Is this about what happened in Pittsburgh?”

“I guess?” She leaned her head on Bucky’s shoulder, watching the steam rise in tendrils off the pizza in front of them. “He always said he liked how soft and sweet I am, shut up, I know, but I guess he realized I’m not really that soft after all?”

“Darce.” Bucky shook his head, and she finally sat upright. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that. But that’s a real dick move, you know that, right?”

She nodded miserably, then forced herself to change the subject. She was grateful that Bucky stayed pressed against her side, even if it made eating their pizza awkward. By the time she put away a slice and a half, he’d pretty much demolished the rest of the pie and waved off the waitress’s offer of dessert. Bucky dropped some cash on the table and slung his arm back around her to head back to the Tower. She let him pull her close for another one-armed hug in the elevator, and thanked him quietly.

“I needed this, Buck, but can we keep this between us for now, just until I figure out what happens next?”

“Sure thing, doll,” he promised with a squeeze to her shoulders. “But come up for dinner with me and Steve tomorrow night?” 

She nodded as the elevator doors opened, letting her off at the lab. “You’re the best, Bucky.”

“I know,” he said with a wink, fluttering the fingers of his metal hand.

Since she was still playing catch-up from her time out of the office, Darcy didn’t really have the bandwidth to process Clint’s actions. She was in the lab until nearly 8:00 that night, partially working, partially avoiding going home. Spending 12-plus hours at work was a great way to take her mind off things, she figured, even though by the end of the day she was basically making up tasks to keep herself busy. It wasn’t until she saw the boxes at her feet again that she remembered Britt was on call to take her home; she apologized profusely for making her wait, but the driver explained that she got paid for a full shift and had used the time to catch up on some reading. Britt helped her carry the boxes upstairs, offering a sympathetic smile but no comment on why she was clearly moving out of Clint’s apartment. 

The next day was more of the same, only she got to work on time and had dinner with Bucky and Steve to look forward to. She still hadn’t said anything to Jane, trusting her friend to be engrossed enough in her work that she wouldn’t notice her withdrawn attitude. She hit the gym after work for some cardio, pushing herself harder than usual, then headed up to Bucky’s apartment once she cleaned up.

Bucky drew her into an immediate hug, and Steve shot her a questioning glance as he offered her a drink.

“Water’s fine,” she answered, knowing Bucky rarely kept booze in stock since neither he nor Steve could feel its effects. Bucky waved a bottle of wine in her direction, though, saying he’d bought it just for her, so she let Steve pour her a glass of Chianti. She sat at the breakfast bar while her friends finished putting out the Italian feast they’d ordered, and her heart swelled a little at the efforts Bucky was making to make her feel better.

He kept the conversation light as they dug in to lasagna and salad and cheesy garlic bread, teasing stories out of Steve about how much things had changed, asking her about her book club, nothing too serious. She was grateful to Steve for playing along throughout dinner, but she wasn’t surprised when, once Bucky got up to clear the dishes, the other man leaned in to ask quietly how she was holding up. 

“Um, mostly okay, I think?” Darcy hedged. “Agent Hill told me I could make an appointment with one of the SHIELD counselors if I needed to talk to anyone.”

Steve relaxed at that. “Good, that’s a good idea. I know it’s tough with Clint being pulled away for a long-term op. I’m a little surprised, actually, Nat said someone else had been assigned at first but Clint ended up being sent instead.”

She worked not to visibly deflate at the news; that pretty much meant he had requested the mission, which pretty much meant that he was done with her for good. She tried to smile gamely at Steve, and at Bucky when he came back over with a container of lemon gelato and three bowls. He pushed the dessert into Steve’s hands, ordered him to scoop, and went to get her a glass of water.

Steve glanced between them, looking increasingly concerned, until she shrugged one shoulder and said she and Clint had split up.

“Ah, jeez, Darcy, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He looked up at Bucky, who refused to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “But this one did, huh? A heads-up woulda been nice, Buck.”

“I asked him not to tell anyone until I figured some stuff out. But I guess Clint asking to leave long-term means there’s nothing to figure out, really.” She frowned down at the table, fiddling with the edge of the woven placemat in front of her. 

“I gotta say, Darce, I think it’ll all work out,” Steve said gently. “Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, but sometimes it just takes time for everything to fall into place.”

Darcy glanced up to see the men looking fondly at each other, and Bucky reached out a hand to squeeze Steve’s fingers.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, taking a long sip of her water.

As she headed for the door a few minutes later, she was surprised when Steve pulled her into a tight hug. “Let us know if you need anything, kid.”

Bucky was next, and he pressed a firm kiss to her cheek as he let her go. “It’s gonna work out, Darce, I promise.”

She thanked them for dinner, and was surprised to see Britt waiting outside with a sedan to take her home again. “Mr. Barnes called ahead,” the driver explained with a shrug. It beat the subway for sure, but she knew she’d have to give up the life of luxury soon, especially with the new knowledge she’d gained from Steve. Still, she appreciated Bucky looking out for her, and she said as much to Britt.

“Yeah, he seems like a good guy,” she agreed easily. “Everyone up there does.”

They chatted along the drive to Queens, mostly about wild requests Britt had gotten as a chauffeur before coming to work for Tony Stark. Darcy couldn’t help remarking that surely Stark himself had made some wild requests, but Britt just laughed and shook her head. “Hey, what happens in my car stays in my car,” she said as she pulled up to Darcy’s building.

Darcy clambered out of the backseat before Britt could get out and open the door for her. “Thanks for the ride, and for the distraction,” she said when Britt rolled down the window.

“Have a good night, Ms. Lewis.”

“It’s just Darcy,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. She tried not to think about the futility of befriending this woman, considering she’d probably be stuck taking the subway everywhere again now that she wasn’t dating an Avenger. It just felt nice to talk to someone else who knew about that world but was still somehow outside of it, the support personnel who allowed the superheroes to function smoothly. Yet another thing she’d miss.

She dropped down on the couch when she got upstairs, not even bothering to flick on the lights, instead letting the streetlight shining through her window be her guide. Without consciously realizing it, Darcy had made the decision to cut ties with Stark Tower, SHIELD, and the whole lot of it. She’d known that she’d have to look for a new job soon, and even if Clint was away from the Tower on missions, she didn’t want to risk running into him when he was so clearly through with her.


	11. Chapter 11

Despondent yet resolved, she spent another fitful night mentally dictating her letter of resignation for Jane. By the time she finally dozed off, she had come up with a plan to put in her notice, apply for some jobs, and figure out a budget. She was suddenly, urgently grateful again to the grandmother she’d never known for giving her a way out of this mess; without her student loans looming -- once she finally bit the bullet on making that payment, anyway--and with the prepayment of her rent, she would only have to manage food and transportation while she looked for a new position. She’d already determined she didn’t want to leave New York, especially since she’d started to build a life outside of Clint and work.

She’d missed both the craft group and book club in the midst of her weekend away and its fallout, and she figured she’d want to find a couple other ways to meet people, if only for the networking opportunities. As soon as she settled in at her desk, she shot off emails to her closest friends in those groups--Maura and Jess from book club, and Dottie, who had been infinitely patient in trying to teach Darcy to knit--and said she was job hunting if they heard of anything. If nothing else, she’d try to sign on with a temp agency to tide her over until she found something permanent.

She drafted her letter and printed it off, just to make things official, but she booked a conference room for a meeting with Jane so she could deliver the news in person. She hadn’t wanted to mention Clint, but when her friend gently asked if everything was okay, the whole story spilled out.

“Well, Darcy, you know I can’t judge you for that. And honestly, this makes my decision about going back to Culver easier, knowing I won’t be forcing you to choose.”

They worked out the logistics -- Jane was willing to let her go as soon as she needed to, and in her eagerness to avoid Clint, whenever he returned, she took advantage of the flexibility. She’d be unemployed in a week. Jane gave her a long hug before they left the conference room, promising her friend a glowing recommendation and a place in Virginia should she ever choose to come back. 

She sent out a slew of resumes that morning, then crossed her fingers that she’d hear quickly from someone. She’d already cleared Jane and Dr. Selvig as references, and she took a deep breath before sending a request to Agent Hill as well, since she’d seen her work with Clint and she didn’t really have anyone else to ask. The response came quickly, brief as it was: _I’d be happy to. Best of luck in your future endeavors._

That sorted, she searched the internet for things to take care of before leaving a job, both personally and professionally, and compiled two lists to work through over the next week. Most of it was obvious, making sure all work files were properly labeled, updating any manuals and handbooks for her replacement, setting up forwarding and alternate contacts. She avoided going to the floors where she might run into any of Clint’s team members, which meant no gym, no good coffee, no casual chats with Sam or Bruce; it was miserable. After her birthday, when she’d realized his friends were her friends too, she was mourning the loss of more than one relationship.

Having bombarded the local temp agencies with her resume, she wasn’t entirely unsurprised to get a few phone calls from recruiters during her last week working for Jane. She set up interviews for the days after her job ended, and crossed her fingers that something would come up quickly. Her last few days passed in a blur of wrapping up and lunch with Jane and a little party with the staff. She didn’t see any of Clint’s team in passing, but Bucky stopped by to give her a hug on Wednesday evening; he made her promise to keep in touch, and Darcy swore she would.

She took off her arrow necklace that evening. The nightmares started that night.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, Darcy woke abruptly, sweating, chest pounding, sure she’d been unable to save Clint after all—she’d been too late, too slow, too scared, too soft. As she tried to catch her breath, she reminded herself it was only a dream. She’d saved him, she had, and even if it meant she’d still lost him in the end at least he was out there alive and breathing somewhere.

After multiple nights of interrupted sleep, she decided to join the YMCA -- it opened at 5 am, and she figured she might as well get some cardio in if she wasn’t going to sleep properly. After her turn on the treadmill, she’d come back to her apartment, shower, and try to be productive until it was time to head into the city for interviews.

The first placement agency was a bust; they were looking more for event staff than anything else, and while she was willing to consider that if nothing else panned out, she didn’t want to commit to any sporadic work that might keep her from a full-time position.

The second agency was far more promising. The recruiter had actually read her resume, and they were sure they’d be able to find something for her quickly. Darcy agreed to some flexible conditions, temp-to-perm or just full-time temporary, any shift as long as it was consistent, anywhere in the city.

It took another week before anything materialized, with a couple more agency interviews scattered throughout. The second agency ended up being the one that found her a placement, a temp role filling in for someone out on maternity leave. It was a six-week assignment, full-time, supporting a department head at an insurance company -- nothing too difficult, just keeping the boss on track. 

Her manager was nice enough; he ran the internal communications team, a dozen folks who welcomed Darcy warmly and promptly went on about their business. By the end of the first week, she felt comfortable in the role, which mostly involved managing Saeed’s calendar and making sure he got where he needed to be on time. It was a lot like working for Jane, actually, except that the man never forgot to eat because every meeting seemed to be catered with coffee and pastries or sandwiches or cookies depending on the time of day. 

The nightmares continued, of course, rousing her from sleep each night with images of Clint being shot, stabbed, killed. She’d wake with her hands shaking and lie there until her body had settled, even if her mind never quite slowed down. She had cobbled together a routine designed to tire her body, crossing her fingers that it wouldn’t show at work, that she could keep it together from 8 to 5, but she could never quite put the violent encounter out of her head. 

Adding to her woes, for the first time in her life she wasn’t hungry--like, at all. She’d switched to black coffee all the time, picked over her salads at lunch, forced herself to eat turkey sandwiches for dinner so she’d get some protein before her workouts. She decided to sign up for krav maga classes as well, at a nearby martial arts academy; even if her dream self couldn’t defend anyone, her real self could certainly keep up the training she’d gotten used to with Bucky and Natasha. And the Y had boot camp workouts in the evenings, so she did those on the off-nights that krav maga didn’t meet. Her clothes didn’t quite fit right anymore, but until she had permanent, steady employment, she wasn’t willing to go buy a bunch of new stuff. She still hadn’t touched her inheritance.

By the end of the third week of her temp assignment, it felt like she was living someone else’s life. Jane had wrapped up her work with SHIELD, and gone back to Culver University. Darcy had thrown threw herself into her extracurriculars; she was getting killer arms and abs from her twice-daily workouts, and book club and craft club were highlights of her week. She became a fixture at the local coffee shop’s Tuesday open mic nights, and she picked up a volunteer gig walking dogs at the animal shelter on Saturday mornings. She was slowly making friends at the insurance company, and she went out for drinks a couple times with some of her work buddies. What she really wanted to do was stop thinking: about the warehouse, about Clint, about how she was having to put her life back together with no real support system, about the unfairness of it all. Somewhere in there, she knew, she’d missed his birthday. She wondered if Nat had put purple flowers on his cake.

That Friday, the team went out to celebrate the end of the second quarter and the start of the long holiday weekend; Saeed shut down the office at 3, took everyone to a bar in Midtown, and paid for the first round of drinks and some appetizers. When the party wrapped up, she happily tagged along to Hell’s Kitchen with some coworkers. They ended up at a little dive bar where they met up with Ashley’s boyfriend and his friends, and it struck Darcy for the first time since Clint left that she might actually get through this upheaval after all. Sure, she still missed him, still wished he’d come to his senses, but between work and the gym and new friends and conscious efforts to Fill Her Time, she was singing the Mary Tyler Moore theme song and making plans to attend a summer solstice party and just coming to terms with everything. It finally felt like time wasn’t just passing by unnoticed, like she was participating in her life again. She even took Agent Hill up on her offer of therapy with a SHIELD counselor, and even though Darcy only ended up going to a handful of sessions, she felt like she came away with a little more control over her thoughts and reactions.

She still had two weeks left in her assignment when she started getting anxious about her next gig; the agency hadn’t found a second placement, but since the first one had fallen into her lap so easily she figured it would all work out eventually. But with only ten days of paychecks to look forward to, she felt like she should be more proactive somehow. Mid-week, there was a surprise in her inbox: an email requesting that she come in for an interview for a PA position she didn’t remember applying for. She called the HR rep to clarify, and he told her that she’d come highly recommended by Pepper Potts, and that was good enough for him. He worked for a medical research company and he was looking for an executive assistant to support the CEO; her experience handling classified material in a high-tech environment could be very useful, even without Ms. Potts’ endorsement. She stammered her way through setting up the interview, agreed to come in that Thursday before work, and hung up the phone bewildered and touched and slightly disappointed; if Pepper Potts was helping her find a job, someone was keeping an eye out for her. But it also probably meant the odds of Clint wanting to reconcile were even slimmer than she’d thought -- surely if he wanted her back in his life, he wouldn’t let Tony let Pepper find her a job outside of SHIELD.

On Thursday she took an early train into Manhattan to interview with Dr. Rosario Garcia. Dr. Garcia had built her biotech company from the ground up, and although the organization was still small, they had powerful connections. Darcy had spent some time perusing the REFgen website, and while the science was over her head as usual, she was intrigued by the CEO and what she’d accomplished. REFgen was named in honor of Rosalind Franklin, who had inspired Dr. Garcia to go into biology. The company employed mostly women scientists and worked primarily to develop and improve vaccines and antitoxins. Her digging had pulled up links to government contracts, and she’d gotten the sense that REFgen was on the cutting edge of the technology in its field.

As she sat in the lobby waiting for her preliminary conversation with Kevin from HR, she ran through the facts and findings, her STAR-based responses to potential interview questions, and too-frequent reminders to breathe and stop clenching her hands into fists. When Kevin finally called her into the conference room, she nearly dropped her portfolio and water all over the place, and he chuckled warmly when she rolled her eyes at her clumsiness.

The more she heard from Kevin about the job, the company, and Dr. Garcia herself, the more she hoped she’d get the role. After she met with Dr. Garcia half an hour later, she was sure it would be a good fit. When the CEO asked if she had any questions or concerns, Darcy had been unusually blunt: “Frankly, this feels too good to be true. What am I missing here?” Dr. Garcia had simply smiled, shook her head, and said, “Pepper Potts once helped me out of a bind -- anything I can do to help one of her people, I will.”

Darcy sat back, bemused, before shrugging and saying, “I could start a week from Monday, if that works for you?”

Dr. Garcia reached across the table to shake her hand, then called Kevin back in so he could go over the details of the offer. It was a little more than what she’d made working for Jane, even with SHIELD’s considerable resources; supporting a CEO just paid better than supporting an astrophysicist. She wouldn’t get rich working for REFgen, but she wouldn’t be paying for her train pass in loose change anymore either.

Stunned by her good fortune, Darcy texted Bucky on her way down the elevator to see if he could meet up for a drink after work. When he responded with a thumbs-up emoji, they decided to head towards the little Mexican place she and Jane loved. REFgen was a little farther away than Stark Tower, on the outskirts of Koreatown, so Bucky was already waiting with margaritas when she walked up to the bar. He pulled her into a one-armed hug and listened to her babble about the interview, the bizarreness of the situation, the fact that she’d be starting a new chapter in just a few short days. She was breathless by the time she stopped talking, and she blushed when Bucky teasingly told her not to forget about him.

“You know I won’t, Buck, even if I wanted to. Won’t forget about any of it,” she said, propping her chin on her fist. “Honestly, I’m kinda hoping he won’t either, even if it takes him a little time to figure out what he wants.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said simply, knowing there was no good response to heartache. “Hey, FYI, Natasha and Sam and Steve are on their way over, we’re gonna grab dinner-- do you want to join us, or at least say hi, or...” He trailed off, looking at her questioningly. 

“Um, yeah, I guess I can say hi?”

“Okay, cool, I know Stevie’s been missing you around the Tower.” She rolled her eyes, knowing Bucky was laying it on thick, but she was surprised by the strength of the hug Steve gave her when he arrived a few minutes later. They exchanged pleasantries before he went over to the hostess to ask for a table, and Sam and Natasha rolled in shortly thereafter.

Sam’s greeting was casual enough, but she could feel his worried stare. “You been taking care of yourself? You look...”

“That good, huh?,” she chuckled, inwardly cursing his ability to pick up on people’s problems. “Just been working out a lot, helps me sleep better.”

“You gotta eat, too, you know,” he chided gently, but he quickly backed off when he saw the determined look on Natasha’s face. He excused himself to the table, and Darcy swiveled on her stool to face Bucky and Nat.

“How are you?” Darcy’s voice was small.

“Fine.” There was venom dripping from Natasha’s voice when she answered, and Darcy couldn’t help flinching.

“How’s -- how is he?”

“You don’t get to ask that, after what you did.”

“What I did? What choice did I have, Nat--Natasha?” Darcy stumbled over the nickname, realizing there was no comfort to be found in the face of Clint’s best friend. She couldn’t understand the vitriol, not under these circumstances.

“You knew the kind of work he did, you knew what you were signing up for.” Natasha’s voice had gone calm and flat now, and that was somehow scarier.

Darcy looked at Bucky, bewildered.

“You said Clint left,” he frowned.

“He did. I don’t understand what’s going on here?”

Bucky spat something in Russian, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at Darcy before replying in kind. They conversed for another minute, Bucky getting increasingly frustrated, before Natasha finally hissed something under her breath before looking back at Darcy. 

“I apologize, I seem to have been misinformed about the situation.” She turned sharply, signaling to Sam with one hand and putting a phone to her ear with the other.

Darcy turned back to Bucky, her mouth hanging open.

“She thought you ended it because Clint’s job was too dangerous. But when you said you had no choice, you were talking about what you did that night, right? You thought it drove Clint away.”

“Yeah, I mean, what else is there?”

Bucky just shook his head, muttered the same word Natasha had said, and pulled Darcy into a hug. 

“What does that mean, you both said it?”

“Idiot. Clint, not you. She’s trying to get a hold of him now, and I think he’s lucky he’s in -- he’s not in New York,” he caught himself. “Listen, doll, you’re still welcome to join us, what do you say?”

She declined with a sigh. “I just wanna go home, I think.”

Bucky nodded and threw a few bills down to cover their drinks. “Keep your chin up, and keep me posted about the new job. I’m proud of you, Darce.”

She waved a goodbye to Sam and Steve, where they sat across the room with concerned looks on their faces, and headed back to Queens.


	12. Chapter 12

When she saw the email from Clint on Sunday evening, she almost didn’t click on it.

_Hey Darcy,_

_Figured you might have blocked my number. I’m so fucking sorry, I really messed up. I’m still out of the country and will be for a couple more weeks, and this is the first chance I’ve had to get in touch. I’m not sure I’ll even be here long enough to get a reply, if you even bother reading this, but I hope I can see you when I’m back in New York. I understand if you’re mad and you don’t want to see me but I’d like to explain, if you’ll let me. Hope you’re safe and doing well. I miss you._

_-cb_

Her first reaction was to cuss, loudly, at his audacity, drawing stares from the other patrons in the little cafe where she’d set up with her laptop. He thought he could just send an email after disappearing, and that would make everything okay? Her second reaction was to sag into the soft armchair she was sitting in and rub her hands across her face, because she felt like maybe she would finally be able to breathe again.

She sat back in the chair, willing herself to keep breathing, and she sighed when the barista came over with a glass of water. “You looked like you needed this,” he explained. Darcy nodded her thanks, then shifted so she could pull her legs up into the chair.

_An explanation_, she thought, _as if there’s any way to explain bailing on your girlfriend with a note. God, I’ve missed that idiot._

She contemplated for a few minutes, then spent half an hour typing and deleting and editing before finally hitting send on her response.

_Clint,_

_You definitely messed up, and I am definitely mad. Be safe._

_Darcy_

Short and sweet, to the point, didn’t make her a doormat, but enough to keep the lines of communication open. She drained her water glass, snapped her laptop closed, and went home to prepare for her last few days at the temp job.

The week flew by, and on her last day Saeed shook her hand and wished her well without much fanfare. She knew she’d been distracted over the past month and a half, but it still stung not to be praised or promised a good recommendation. She was glad she’d already lined something else up and hopefully wouldn’t be relying on the agency for future jobs, since it might be hard to get placed again if she hadn’t given a hundred percent.

She didn’t hear back from Clint, and her weekend was full of nerves about the transition to her new job. Saturday was spent doing laundry, so that she could try on every outfit combination in her wardrobe to make sure she had something suitable to wear the first day...and the second, and might as well figure out the whole week at that point, right? Darcy carefully hung each outfit up on the hook sticking out of the closet door and thought about investing in some belts so maybe everything would fit a little better on her more toned frame.

When she couldn’t fall asleep on Sunday night, she caved and took half a benadryl, hoping it would knock her out. She’d been surviving on too little sleep for too long, but she was determined not to start the new job at half-mast. She woke at her usual time, better rested than usual, and hit the Y for her run. She splurged on a smoothie and breakfast sandwich from the shop on the corner, and was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when she showed up at REFgen a couple hours later. There was a plant on her desk with a card that said “Welcome!”

Kevin-from-HR was there to greet her and get her started on the paperwork, and by mid-morning she was sitting at her new desk, getting up to speed on the computer’s programs and the company’s policies. Dr. Garcia came in at noon and apologized profusely for not being there when she arrived, but she assured her new boss that she’d been able to put the time to good use. They spent a couple hours in the afternoon going over expectations and communication styles, Darcy taking copious notes the whole time. 

She left the office at five o’clock sharp. Dr. Garcia was very concerned about work-life balance for her team, and had promised her that unless there were extenuating circumstances like an event or special project, she didn’t expect her to be on call or stick around the office past five. Kevin assured her that those projects and events were few and far between, a couple times a quarter, max, and that Darcy would be paid overtime for any extra hours she put in.

There was a learning curve, as expected, but Darcy and Dr. G quickly got into a good working relationship. She hesitated the first time she called her boss by the nickname, but the older woman had just chuckled; Darcy made sure to always address her respectfully when other people were around, and she assumed that someday they might be on a first-name basis, but for now it just felt collegial. At any rate, she felt secure enough that she could finally bite the bullet on paying off her student loans, and there was a definite pep in her step when she saw the balance at zero.

Midway through her second week, she came down to the building lobby at the end of the day to see Clint standing there waiting for her. She stopped dead in her tracks, and Kevin had to turn around to continue the conversation they’d been having in the elevator on the way down. He glanced between her and Clint before asking if she was okay; when she finally looked at her colleague, she snapped out of it and assured him she was fine. Kevin shot Clint one more wary look, awfully brave considering Clint could probably snap the lanky man in half, and said good night.

She could feel her heart racing but her voice remained steady as she asked him what he was doing there.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, wincing, “I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, but I got back to New York a couple days ago. I just-- I needed to see you,” he faltered. He looked around the lobby, aware of the crowds around them leaving for the day, and headed over to the wall to get out of the way. Darcy followed, arms crossed over her chest.

“And what about what I needed?” The control was gone from her voice; her words came out almost as a hiss. Clint had the grace to look guilty, but suddenly she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. All that time wishing he’d come back, and now that he stood before her, she just wanted to rail at him, to tell him exactly how small and stupid he’d made her feel for loving him and trusting him. And overarching all those emotions, she wanted to pull him close and kiss him and hold him and never let him go. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, seeing him there.

“I know, Darcy, I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll get out of your hair. I, uh, I’d still like to explain sometime, if you’ll let me, I just needed to see that you were okay.”

Some of the fight went out of her, and she sighed. “Friday, after work. Can you meet me here again?”

Clint’s eyes widened, and he fumbled his words as he agreed to her invitation. “Yeah, god, yeah, Darce, that’s great, Friday, thank you.”

Darcy dressed very deliberately on Friday, not a hint of purple to be found. She was antsy all day, and when Kevin asked if she was okay she gave him the highest-level overview, aware that she didn’t want to share too much with her HR rep, friendly as he was. She explained that she and Clint had dated, he’d had to leave town for work, and she hadn’t expected to see him, but now he was back. 

“There are resources...” he started, but he didn’t seem to know quite how to finish his thought. 

She didn’t know what he was getting at, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. “Just took me by surprise, is all,” she said with a shrug.

Clint was in the lobby as promised when she got off work, and he rubbed the back of his neck when she walked up to him. “I was going to bring flowers, but I didn’t want to make a scene or anything. Didn’t know if you’d want ‘em anyway.”

She gave him a clipped thanks and suggested they go to a coffee shop near her office, someplace neutral so they could talk. He ordered their drinks while she claimed a table downstairs, knowing there would be no real privacy in midtown on a Friday afternoon; she just didn’t want to be alone with him until he explained himself.

He sat down and they made awkward small talk, which pained her more than she could have imagined. She could feel his knee jiggling under the table, nervous energy with no other outlet, and finally she took pity on them both. “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested, standing abruptly and knocking her chair back with a screech. He looked relieved, and they made their way down to Madison Square Park to find a shady path to meander. She thought it might be easier to talk if they didn’t have to look at one another, and he finally broke the silence once they were walking at a steady pace.

“I don’t know if you know much about what happened at the Battle of New York,” he started.

“Jane and I were in Norway,” she said, shaking her head.

“I, uh. I know now that it wasn’t my fault, but for a while I was really messed up. Loki got into my head, I couldn’t make any decisions, couldn’t stop him. A lot of people died at my hands, Darce. He made me a weapon.” Clint blew out a sharp breath, and her heart went out to him.

“Kind of like what happened to Erik,” she said softly, “only he didn’t put a gun in Erik’s hands.”

“Yeah,” Clint sighed. “I forgot about that. Nat snapped me out of it in the end, but it was too late. I thought Phil, Agent Coulson, I thought I was responsible for his death too, but even after he came back there were still all those other people.”

He stopped in the path, pulled her off to stand by a cluster of trees. “I thought I’d made the same stupid mistake with you, Darcy, in that warehouse. I put you at risk and made you get involved and I couldn’t fucking stand it. And I know it was also really messed up that I just bailed on you, I just...I felt like I was drowning and the only way I knew to catch my breath was to leave so I couldn’t hurt you anymore.”

“Okay, but consider this: leaving me, after a traumatic experience, with just a note, and cleaning out all your stuff was also pretty hurtful.” Darcy counted out his errors on her fingers.

His shoulders slumped. “I know,” he croaked out.

She turned and started walking again, chest pounding. As expected, he caught up to her a few strides later. They were almost back to the north side of the park, where it made sense to part ways.

“I don’t expect anything from you, I just thought you deserved an explanation. I regretted it as soon as I got on the plane to So-- for my op,” he caught himself, “but I couldn’t back out of that either.”

“Look, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with all this right now.”

“I’m just glad you gave me a chance to explain. You-- you look good, Darce,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, her eyes closing involuntarily at his words. They stood at an intersection of paths, neither of them sure which way to move next.

“Wait, what?”

“I know I’m not... I know what you liked about me was that I was soft and sweet, and I know I’m not really that woman anymore after what I did. I’m not soft anymore,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“Darce, were you listening to anything I said? You think I left because you defended yourself? And defended me?” He steered her gently over to an empty bench, and they sat side by side.

She just shrugged, staring down at her feet. “You were gone for two months. After I...after what I did, what else was I supposed to think? I mean, now I have an explanation, but I’ve been thinking about it for two months, Clint.” 

She raised her head to look at him fiercely.

“Why did you email me, was it because of Natasha? After she and Bucky and I talked a couple weeks ago?”

He nodded carefully. “She called it another cognitive recalibration, or she would have if she’d been able to actually knock me upside the head like she wanted to.”

“So if she hadn’t gotten in touch with you, would you have contacted me when you got back to New York?”

“I don’t know,” he said carefully, and Darcy felt her shoulders slump just a little. “Not that I didn’t want to, I really did regret it as soon as I left New York, Darce, I just... I was scared, for sure, but also I just wasn’t sure you’d want anything to do with me. Uh, but Tasha said that Bucky said you still seemed upset, and that Sam was worried about you, and that I was an idiot and you deserved an explanation even if you didn’t ever want to see me again after that. And, I mean, I knew you did, she didn’t have to tell me that, I just don’t know how long it would have taken me to get my shit together.”

“Still upset? Of course I am still upset, Clint, I--” she cut off with a huff and clenched her jaw, trying to stop the words from spilling out. She took a deep breath. “So what happens now?”

He shrugged. “In an ideal world, you forgive me and give me a chance to make it up to you.” His gaze was open and honest, and she felt something unfurl in her chest.

“I can’t just go back to how things were,” she warned. “I mean, I loved how things were, but I don’t think it’ll be that easy now.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he conceded. 

“But maybe we could start with dinner? Not tonight, I need to think about stuff, but this weekend if you’re free?”

His eyes brightened, and he readily agreed. “I can come out your way,” he offered. “Tomorrow at 7?”

She nodded, and he reached out a hand toward her before drawing it back. “It’s really good to see you, Darce.”

It took three weeks of texting and casual dates -- lunches, coffees, two dinners -- before she felt settled enough to give Clint a real shot. She could see that he was the same man she’d fallen in love with, and he seemed to be just as fond of her new leaner and meaner vibes as he was of his sweet girl. The process of getting back together was slow, and Darcy knew she was probably being overly cautious. When she confessed that to him one night, he protested gently and told her he wasn’t going anywhere so she should take all the time she needed.

He got called away on a short Avengers op at the end of August, and when he got back he immediately invited her to a team dinner. “They missed you too, you know,” he said, his voice warm over the phone. 

She headed to the Tower on Tuesday after work, and Clint met her in the lobby. She knew JARVIS would have given her access if Clint had asked for it, but she was grateful she didn’t have to head into the common area alone; even though she’d considered his teammates her friends, she hadn’t really talked to anyone but Bucky since the Great Upheaval. Darcy stood slightly behind Clint in the elevator, tucked behind his arm just a little, and when she reached down to lace their fingers together she heard him draw in a breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, squeezing her hand.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Missed hearing you call me that,” she said, resting her head on his bicep as they raced upwards. 

He turned a little to gaze at her, his expression gentle and open. “Me too, Darce,” he said before he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

Bucky and Steve were the only ones in the lounge when they came in, and she had a feeling they were all conspiring not to overwhelm her. Bucky gave her a big hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek, chattering away while she greeted Steve, and they settled on the big comfy couches with drinks to catch up.

Bruce came in a little while later, his calmness a perfect counterpoint to Tony’s boisterous entrance, and Sam and Natasha arrived just a few minutes before they all sat down to eat. Darcy sat between Bucky and Clint and let the conversations wash over her, only chiming in when someone asked her a direct question. It felt a lot like the first team dinner she’d attended, and as much as she enjoyed seeing her friends again, she was relieved when the main course was finished.

They’d all piled back into the lounge for coffee and cheesecake when Tony started grilling her about everything she’d been up to over the summer. There was some good-natured ribbing at Clint’s expense, which he took in stride, but when Tony said something about him being stupid, Natasha and Darcy leveled twin glares at the man. Tony held up his hands, backing off, and Clint squeezed Darcy’s shoulder in appreciation.

Later, she did go thank Tony for whatever role he played in getting Pepper to help her get a job. He waved her off, saying they took care of their own, and she nodded shortly. She figured plenty of people gushed over Tony Stark, and as grateful as she was, she didn’t want to go overboard.

Natasha approached her before the evening ended, and Darcy couldn’t help but feel nervous. The other woman’s attitude the last time they’d met had been...less than pleasant, and even though she thought they’d cleared the air, she didn’t know how to go back to what the friendship had been. Darcy tried not to let her wariness show, and she could feel Clint watching them from across the room. But all the redhead did was put a hand on Darcy’s arm and say she was glad to see her again; when she asked Clint about it later, he laughed and said that was a grand overture as far as Tasha was concerned.

On the back of Clint’s bike on the ride home, she felt like things were finally coming full circle. She invited him up, not ready for the night to end, but still not quite at the point to rekindle the physical side of their relationship; instead they sat cuddled together on her little love seat, talking and reconnecting. He seemed to take it in stride, but after a while he extricated himself from where she was leaning back against his chest.

A few months ago, she would have grumbled good-naturedly at the loss, but now she felt like she didn’t have a leg to stand on — she was the one who wasn’t ready for more, and it was unfair to expect him to hang around with no chance of hooking up. He’d have to get tired of waiting eventually, and other than gentle kisses and hand-holding, he hadn’t made a move since they’d gotten back together. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he just didn’t find her attractive anymore now that she wasn’t as soft as she used to be.

Something must have shown on her face, because Clint dropped back into a crouch in front of her and cupped her cheek. 

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

“I’m scared you’re going to get tired of waiting,” she said bluntly, looking him in the eye. “For us to get back to where we were, for me to be ready to sleep with you again.”

He started to protest, but she cut him off, holding a hand up. “It’s not that I don’t want to, god, you’re just as amazing as ever, but I don’t look the same and I don’t-- my body doesn’t feel the same and I don’t want you to realize that I’m not what you want after all. I’m scared you’re going to leave me again,” she said, looking at the floor this time.

Clint swore under his breath, but his voice was steady when he spoke. “I’m not going anywhere, Darcy. I want you, as much as you’re willing to give. I mean, I want all of you but I know I can’t ask for that anymore, but I hope you’ll... I hope eventually you will know how much I love you and want you and want to be with you no matter what. And I know you’ve got no reason to trust that, but I’m gonna do my best to keep proving it to you. You’re gorgeous now and you were gorgeous before and you’re always gonna be my beautiful girl.”

“That was your one chance,” she warned, eyes blazing. “You leave me like that again, I’m done, no matter what your reasons. I’m not saying you can’t need space, I know there will be jobs where you have to leave with no warning, but if you bail on me again ‘for my own good,’” she gestured, “that’s it. I can’t go through that again.”

“I swear I won’t do that to you again,” he said simply. “I swear, sweetheart.”

Whatever comfort she was looking for, she found it in his promise. She pulled him onto the cushion next to her, and threw herself into his embrace, letting his murmured comforts wash over her. Darcy slept through the night for the first time in months, safe in the warmth of Clint’s arms.


	13. Six months (and several arrows) later

Darcy shivered in the February air as she waited for the police officer to finish taking her statement. She’d just explained, yet again, how she’d disarmed the mugger who’d gone for her purse, and she was starting to get offended. Sure, her winter coat hid her figure, and sure, she’d eased up on her fitness regimen now that she’d stopped having nightmares about the warehouse, but the officer’s obvious disbelief at her self-defense skills was a little grating.

Movement caught her eye beyond the flashing lights of the squad car, and she sagged a little in relief when Clint jogged over. He’d been at the Tower, but he came as soon as she’d called.

“Darce, sweetheart, are you okay?” he asked, cutting off the policeman’s question. Clint grabbed her face in both hands, eyes scanning her for any injuries; seeing none, he pulled her into a tight hug.

Darcy held on to him for a minute, then rolled her eyes when the cop cleared his throat. 

“You done here?” Clint asked the officer, already pulling Darcy away. “You can finish this at the station tomorrow, yeah?” 

The officer handed Darcy a card before she could get much farther, and she couldn’t help but smile at the address. She’d only been a resident of the 79th Precinct for a month; Clint had bought an apartment and then a whole building in Bed-Stuy the previous fall, and once they’d gotten their shit together, she hadn’t renewed her lease on the beloved little studio in Queens. She flicked a little wave at the would-be mugger, now handcuffed in the backseat of the police car, and slung her purse over her shoulder before sliding her arm around Clint’s waist. They walked the half-block to their building, and she could already hear the dog scrabbling at the door when Clint unlocked Apartment H.

Darcy hung her bag by the door and dropped to her knees to greet Lucky; Clint had rescued the pup just after he got settled in Brooklyn, and she’d come to love the dog as her own. Now, Clint kneeled beside them, one hand in Lucky’s fur and another on Darcy’s back. She blew out a breath before raising her gaze to Clint’s, and after reading the concern in his eyes, she rose, took off her coat, and went to flop onto the couch. Clint followed, so Lucky did too, but a quick dig in the cushions produced a rawhide chew that would occupy the dog while the adults talked. “I’m fine,” she said, willing him to believe her. He just raised an eyebrow.

“A man came at me in the alley and said to give him my purse, but he didn’t have a weapon so I just kind of laughed? Which was dumb, I know,” she said, wincing at the look of dismay on Clint’s face. “Uh, so he came at me and I-- chopped him. In the neck.”

Darcy gestured in a quick chopping motion, and Clint groaned.

“And that made him mad, so I used a vertical knee strike, and that took care of it,” she finished smugly.

“Vertical knee strike?”

“That’s the technical term, I learned it in krav maga,” she explained, “but basically I kneed him in the nuts.” She shrugged.

Clint shook his head, and she felt a fluttering of fear that history was about to repeat itself, but suddenly he laughed aloud.

“You’re a menace, Lewis,” he said, scooting over on the couch. He pulled her towards him, situating her so that she was straddling his lap before resting his hands on her denim-clad thighs. “My beautiful, badass menace.”

Darcy leaned forward, her arrow necklace dangling from her throat, and dropped a kiss to his mouth. “Your sweet girl,” she countered, and the fond smile on Clint’s face was all the reassurance she’d ever need.


End file.
